


Dawn's First Rays

by RaeValentine



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Twilight Fusion, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Chubby Katsuki Yuuri, Demisexual Katsuki Yuuri, F/F, First Kiss, First Love, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Multi, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV First Person, Slow Burn, Trans Character, Werewolves, Yuuri's POV, no sparkly vampires, that's right ya'll it's Happening
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 03:20:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 83,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9580262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaeValentine/pseuds/RaeValentine
Summary: About three things I was absolutely positive.First, Victor was a vampire.Second, there was a part of him - probably a very dominant part - that thirsted for my blood.And third, I was deeply enamored with him.I didn't know what love was, and I felt like I was barely living... but there was one thing Victor Nikiforov taught me.I was surrounded by love all along.[A project I decided to undergo because I hate myself and what I've become. Mostly though, this is just for fun. Will NOT include stalking, emotional manipulation, or abusive relationship signs. If you're still a Twilight fan, this fic is probably not for you.]





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Oh boy, where to begin... Finally got moved into the new place, but I have no regular internet access, which is starting to be Really Bad for my mental health. I WILL continue my other fics eventually, but those require a lot of effort that I just can't put in right now. This takes less effort than Duel Squad, which is saying something.
> 
> This fic is kinda like a pet project of mine, a "what if Yuuri was Bella but less lame, and Victor was Edward, also less lame and with less man pain and more actual character development that doesn't make me wanna cringe, and also gay" etc. etc. This is written by a reformed Twihard (I was 17 okay, let my dumb phases die) so that means none of the abusive garbage and more fluffy bits while trying to keep everyone in character. This is going to be a blast, so I hope you'll stick with me!

I'd never really thought about dying before. Plenty of opportunities had passed me by over the last few months, but I'd managed to scrape by the skin of my teeth - until now. 

I didn't dare draw breath as I stared across the long room into the eyes of my hunter. Dark eyes gleaming in triumph, he stared pleasantly back.

It must be a good way to die, standing here in the place of someone I loved. Noble, even. That had to count for something, right?

If I had never gone to St. Petersburg, I wouldn't be staring death in the face right now, of that I was sure. Terrified as I was, I had no regrets. It's not very logical to grieve for something, even your wildest dream, if it was so short lived. 

The hunter smiled in an almost friendly sort of way as he stalked forward on silent feet to kill me.


	2. A God, a Kitten, and My Worst Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri comes face to face with his future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm surprised I got this chapter out as quickly as I did. Would have done it yesterday before bed, but someone cut off the hotspot when the storms rolled through. Same thing happened this morning. I'm still battling a wicked cold, too. :/
> 
> So, here's the plan. The chapters in this fic are gonna be down right _massive._ I'm gonna try and keep to the book as much as possible, though since there aren't enough characters to go around, some from the book will have to be cut out altogether. I'll make sure everyone stays in character as much as possible and I'll try not to leave anything out if I can help it, but I am only human.
> 
> With that out of the way, please enjoy!

My mother drove me to the Tokyo airport, the windows rolled down to let in a pleasant breeze. It was seventy-five degrees in Kyushu, Japan. The sky a perfect, forget-me-not blue, clouds scuttling from one horizon to the next, the smell of cherry blossoms drifting through the open window. I was wearing my favorite shirt, a sleeveless white number with the English word for "Determination!" emblazoned on the front in bright yellow font. A farewell gesture, too polite to refuse my mother's warm smile when I put it on earlier that morning. My carry-on items were a heavy parka and a small, stuffed poodle. Vicchan would go with me no matter where I went, my older sister Mari had made sure of it.

In the far north, in the bone chilling cold of Russia, the city of St. Petersburg exists under a near constant cover of clouds. It snows in this large cityscape more than any other place - other than Siberia, maybe, but thankfully no one was crazy enough to attend college there. It was from this large city and its imperious, uniform grandeur that my mother escaped with me when I was only a few months old. It was in this city that I'd been compelled to spend a month every summer until I was fourteen. That was the year I had finally had enough; these past three summers, my father, Toshiya, vacationed with me in Moscow for two weeks instead.

It was to St. Petersburg that I now exiled myself - an action I had been highly reluctant about. I didn't much fancy St. Petersburg. It was too loud, too white, too much to bare, even on a good day.

I loved the little port town of Hasetsu where I lived. I loved the sun and the sea breeze, the cawing of black-tailed seagulls, and the heavenly scent of sakura filtering through my open bedroom window in the Spring. I loved the friendly people, and I loved my small town. Everyone knew each other here, and it was beautiful in an old rustic, charming way.

"Yuuri," my mom said to me - the last of a hundred times - before I got on the plane. "You don't have to do this, dear."

My mom looks like me, except with shoulder length hair and laugh lines. I felt a spasm of panic as I stared into her warm, kind brown eyes. How could I leave my loving, clingy mother to fend for herself? Of course she still had Mari now, so the bills would probably be paid, and she would have someone else to run the inn with; there would be food in the refrigerator, gas in the family car, and Mari to take care of her when she got too lonely, but still...

"I _want_ to go, mom," I lied. I'd always been an awful liar, but I'd been saying it so frequently lately that it even sounded convincing to my ears.

"Tell your father I said hello."

"I will," I reassured her. It was the least I could do.

"I'll see you soon," she insisted. "You can come back to Hasetsu whenever you want - I'll come get you as soon as you need me."

I could see the sacrifice in her eyes behind that promise. It wasn't cheap to travel to Russia. When I arrived in St. Petersburg, I'd be stuck there for a whole year and a half.

"Don't worry about me," I urged. "It'll be great. I love you, mom."

She hugged me tightly for a long minute. It was one of those warm hugs where you never wanted to let the other person go. I boarded the plane and I was gone from Japan. It felt like I had left a piece of myself behind.

It's a twelve and a half hour flight from the airport in Tokyo, Japan to St. Petersburg, Russia, then a twenty minute car ride across the city. Flying doesn't bother me nearly as much as the car ride with my father will. 

My father, Toshiya, had been fairly nice about the whole thing. He seemed genuinely pleased that I was coming to live with him for the first time with any degree of permanence. He'd already helped me get enrolled in college there, and helped with credit transfers, and he was going to help me get a car.

It was sure to be awkward with him no matter what. Neither of us were very talkative, never had been, and I wasn't entirely sure what to say to the man who had once broken my mother's heart. I didn't hate him - I didn't hate anyone unless given a very good reason - he was just the kind of person that was difficult to open up to. I knew he was a bit confused about my decision - like my mother before me, I hadn't made my dislike for the big, sprawling spires and uniformity of St. Petersburg a secret.

When I landed in St. Petersburg, it was snowing. I didn't see it as an omen, it was just an unavoidable part of living in the northern hemisphere. I'd already said my goodbyes to the sunlight.

He was waiting for me with the [Lada Priora.](https://i.ytimg.com/vi/vaeGamGLy_o/maxresdefault.jpg) I expected this, but wasn't too thrilled about it, all things considered. Toshiya is the _Politsiya Starshina_ to the good people of St. Petersburg. My primary motivation behind buying a car, despite not having a _ruble_ to my name, was that I disliked all the attention garnered from being driven around the city in a car with lights on top. Nothing slows down traffic like a cop.

Toshiya gave me an awkward, one-armed hug when I stumbled my way off the plane, Pulkovo Airport bustling with life behind me.

"It's good to see you, Yuuri," he murmured, smiling softly as he automatically steadied me with a firm hand on my shoulder. "You've gained a bit of weight, haven't you? How's Hiroko doing?"

Blushing furiously and trying desperately to pull the hem of my thick winter coat down over my stomach, I shrugged. 

"Mom's fine. It's good to see you, too, Dad." I wasn't allowed to call him Toshiya to his face.

I hadn't packed much, just a few bags with enough to hold all the essentials. Most of my clothes from Hasetsu were too thin for Russia. My mom and I had pooled our resources to supplement my winter wardrobe, but it was still rather lacking. It all fit easily into the trunk of the patrol car.

"I found a good car for you, Yuuri. Very cheap," he announced once we were both strapped in, the heater kicking on to blow welcoming gusts over our faces.

"What kind of car?" I was a bit apprehensive of the way he said 'good for you' as opposed to just 'good car'.

"Well, it's an older car, a Moskvich 408 P [model.](http://trass.az/data/gallery/193/1024x768/moskvich-408-6.jpg)"

Okay, that didn't sound too bad. Foreign, but not bad.

"Where did you find it?"

"Do you remember Celestino Cialdini down at the Itelmen Reservation?" The Itelmen Reservation is the tiny Native reservation on the outskirts of St. Petersburg.

"No." I'm not very good with names. Faces stick in my mind more often than someone's name.

"He used to go fishing with us during the summer," Toshiya prompted.

Ah, that would explain why I didn't remember him. I do a fairly good job of blocking out painful, unnecessary things from my memory.

"Well, he's in a wheelchair now," Toshiya continued when I didn't respond, his gentle Japanese setting my heart at ease. "He can no longer drive, so he offered to sell me his old car for cheap."

"What year is it?" I could see from his change in expression, a soft frown marring his features as he drove through the heavily populated heart of the city, that this was the question he was hoping I wouldn't ask.

"Well, Celestino's done a lot of work on the engine, but it's really only a few years old."

I hoped he didn't think so little of me that I would just give up that easily.

"When did he buy it?"

"He bought it in 1984, I think."

Again not so bad, but I was not to be dissuaded.

"Did he buy it new?" He was not getting out of my barrage of questions; not until I got a solid answer.

"Well, no. I think it was new in the early eighties - or late seventies at the earliest," he admitted with a sheepish smile.

"To-- Dad, I don't really know anything about cars. I wouldn't be able to fix it if something went wrong, and you know I couldn't afford a mechanic.." I trailed off, not wanting to finish that line of thought.

"Yuuri, the car runs great. They don't build them like that in Russia anymore."

 _The car.. more like an old rust bucket,_ I thought. Well, it had possibilities; at the very least, it was a good nickname.

"Just how cheap is _cheap_?" After all, I needed to know how much I had to save up for the old thing.

"Well, son, I kind of already bought it for you. As a homecoming gift." Toshiya peeked from the corner of his eyes at me, a hopeful smile adorning his face.

Wow, a free car. Immediately, I felt a bit guilty. I was perfectly capable of getting a part time job and saving up enough money for it on my own. 

"You didn't need to do that, Dad! I was going to buy myself a car." I chewed on the end of my face mask under the thick scarf wound around my neck, the weight of guilt heavy about my shoulders.

"I don't mind. I want you to be happy here, Yuuri." He was staring out at the road as he said this. Toshiya wasn't usually comfortable with expressing his emotions aloud. I guess I inherited that from him.

"That's really.. Thank you, Dad. I really appreciate it." I didn't dare to turn and look at his expression, content to twiddle my gloved thumbs in my lap instead.

There was no need to add that my being happy in a foreign country where I barely spoke the language is an impossibility. He didn't need to suffer along with me. I never looked a free car in the mouth - er engine, though.

"Well, you're welcome," he murmured, probably embarrassed by my thanks.

We exchanged a few more comments on the weather, which was cold enough to bundle up in our multiple layers and shiver in front of the heater to try and keep warm. The snow came down in sheets, pelting the windshield and making it nearly impossible to see where we were going, but Toshiya seemed used to it, navigating the roads with a native's ease.

That was pretty much it for the conversation, though. After that, we stared out the windows into the winter wonderland in silence.

It was beautiful, of course; I couldn't deny that. Everything was white: the few trees that managed to grow, their limbs covered in a soft white coat; the ground itself wore a pristine blanket, broken only by the passage of cars and pedestrians alike. Even the air gave off a pale, bitingly cold feeling.

It was too _white_ \- like an alien planet.

Eventually, we made it to Toshiya's. He still lived in the small, two bedroom flat that he'd bought with my mother in the early days of their marriage. Those were the only kind of days their marriage had, really - the early ones. There, parked on the street in front of the apartment building that never changed, was my new - well, new to me - car. It was a faded red color, with small tires and even tinier headlights; there was enough space in the car that I would never complain about leg room ever again.

To my surprise, I loved it. I didn't know if it would run, but I could see myself driving it. Plus, it was one of those solid iron affairs that never gets damaged - the kind you see at the scene of an accident, paint unscratched, surrounded by the pieces of the foreign car it had destroyed.

"Wow, Dad, I love it! Thank you!" I tossed my arms around his neck in a brief hug, but let go rather quickly.

Now my horrific day tomorrow would be far less dreadful than I imagined. I wouldn't be faced with the choice of either walking two miles in the snow to school or accepting a ride in my Dad's patrol car.

"I'm glad you like it," Toshiya murmured, embarrassed again.

It only took one trip to get all my stuff upstairs. I got the west bedroom that faced the winding street. It was familiar, having belonged to me since I was born. The wooden floor, the beige walls, the low ceiling, the thick brown curtains around the window - these were all a part of my childhood. The only changes Toshiya had ever made were switching the crib for a bed and adding a desk as I grew up. The desk itself now held a second hand computer, with the phone line for the modem stapled along the floor to the nearest phone jack. This was a stipulation from my mother, so that we could easily stay in touch. The rocking chair from my toddler days still sat in the corner.

There was only one small bathroom at the end of the hall, which I would have to share with Toshiya. I tried not to dwell too much on that fact.  
One of the best things about Toshiya is that he doesn't hover. He left me alone to unpack and get settled in, a feat that would have been impossible for my mother. It was nice to be alone again, not having to smile and look pleased; a relief to stare forlornly out the window at the driving snow and just let a few tears escape, cuddling the stuffed facsimile of Vicchan close to my chest. I wasn't yet in the mood for a total breakdown. I would save that for bedtime, when I would have to think about the coming morning.

Vaganova Academy of Russian Ballet had a frightening total of only three hundred and fifty-seven - now fifty-eight - students; there were more than four hundred and fifty people in my third year class back home. Everyone at this academy had known each other for almost a decade - I would be the strange Japanese outsider come tomorrow morning, a curiosity from a small port town. A _freak._

To them I might look like your average Japanese man, but I might be able to use that to my advantage. Physically, I'd be way behind the other students. I _should_ be tall, muscular, and lithe as a dancer should be - all the things that come with training to be an ice skater since the age of six. 

I had a tendency to eat away my feelings. That hadn't changed since I was in high school, and the move to a completely different country probably wouldn't help matters. I wasn't _that_ chubby - the weight would probably slough right off of me in a month or so. Sadly, that wasn't the point of my anxiety.

Even without that excuse, I was still kinda pale. I had always been slender, but soft somehow, even with the muscle I had managed to gain through training. I wasn't really good at any kind of sport aside from dancing, except for maybe ice skating. _That_ had been my real passion. The first time I had set blade to ice was the first time I could truly remember being happy.

When I finished putting my clothes in the old oak dresser, I took my bag of toiletries and went to the communal bathroom to clean myself up after the day of travel. Jet lag was starting to set in, and I wanted to be finished as soon as possible. I looked at my face in the mirror as I took off my woolen hat and brushed through my short, tangled dark hair. Maybe it was the light, but my face looked rather pinched, the tip of my nose and arches of my cheeks stained pink from the frigid cold. Splashing some warm water on my face helped, and when I put my glasses back on, I looked normal, albeit still a little pink in the face. Damn Russian weather.

Facing my flushed reflection in the mirror, I was forced to admit that I was lying to myself. It wasn't just that I would never fit in physically - not until the extra weight came off at least - but my anxiety issues would undoubtedly get in the way as well. If I couldn't find a niche in a school with over four hundred people who all knew each other, what were my chances here?

It's not that people my age were difficult to get along with, I just chose solitude over company more often than not. Even my mother, who I was closer to than anyone else on the planet, was never really in sync with me. Sometimes I wondered if I was seeing the same things through my eyes that the rest of the world saw through theirs. Maybe there was a fault in my brain.

The cause didn't really matter, though. All that mattered was the effect, and tomorrow would be just the beginning.

***

I didn't sleep well that night, even after I was done crying. The constant _howling_ of the wind and soft pattering of snow on the windows wouldn't fade from the background. I pulled the faded old quilt over my head, and later added a pillow. I couldn't fall asleep until after midnight, when the snow finally let up and the winds had calmed down.

Thick fog covered the street outside my window in a thick sheet the next morning. You could never see the sky here; it was like a fancy, gilded cage. The thought was unpleasant enough without all the whiteness surrounding me.

Breakfast with Toshiya was a quiet event. He wished me good luck at school. I thanked him, knowing his hope was wasted. Good luck tended to pass me by. Toshiya left first, off to the police station that was his wife and family. 

After he left, I sat at the round oak table in one of the three unmatching chairs and examined his small kitchen with its cold stone walls, dark wood cabinets, and white linoleum floor. Nothing had changed. My mother had helped paint the cabinets eighteen years ago in an attempt to make things more aesthetically pleasing to the eye. Over the small fireplace in the adjoining family room - a rather small affair, unfortunately - was a row of pictures.

First, a wedding picture of Toshiya and my mom in Fukuoka, then one of the three of us in the hospital after I was born, taken by a helpful nurse. Following that was a procession of school pictures up to my high school graduation five years ago. Next to that was a picture of me from last year, holding my fluffy brown poodle, Vicchan, and smiling wide for the camera. 

Those were embarrassing to look at, to be honest. I would have to see what I could do to get Toshiya to put them somewhere else, at least while I was living here.

It was impossible to not realize that Toshiya had never gotten over my mom. It made me kinda uncomfortable.

I didn't want to be too early to class, but I couldn't stay in the house anymore. I donned my jacket, scarf, hat, and gloves, and headed out.  
The snow seemed to have let up considerably, judging from the view outside the third floor window. I reached for the house key Toshiya always kept hidden under the welcome mat and locked up. As soon as I made it downstairs and outside, the crunching underfoot became slightly annoying. I almost wished it would rain instead, but that meant hail. I missed the normal sound of pavement under my feet as I walked. I couldn't pause and admire my car again like I wanted to; I was in a hurry to get out of the frigid cold wind that swirled the snow underfoot into little dancing eddies.

Inside the car, it was blessedly dry. Either Celestino or Toshiya had obviously cleaned it up, but the tan upholstered seats still smelled faintly of spices, gasoline, and cologne. The engine started quickly, to my relief, but loudly, roaring to life, and then idling at a softer volume once it had warmed up a bit. Well, a car this old was bound to have at least one flaw, but thankfully the noise wasn't consistently unbearable. The antique radio worked, a bonus I hadn't expected.

Finding the college was a journey in itself. There were many side streets, stop lights, and the palace spires blocking out the sky on the way to the college campus. Everything was so uniformly built, it was hard to find anything since I hadn't been here in years. My Russian was a bit rusty, but I managed to ask for directions - once I got passed the spark of anxiety - and made good time. The school was, like most other buildings, tall and elegant. It was not immediately obvious that it was a school; only the sign out front, written in large Cyrillic and English letters, which declared it to be Vaganova Academy of Russian Ballet, made me stop. There was so much snow, it was hard to make out at first. The towering facade loomed over the skyline, the buildings on either side of the campus paling in comparison, the bright yellow paint standing out among the stark white snow.

Where was the feeling of the institution? I wondered, remembering my old university back in Detroit, Michigan where I spent my first two and a half years abroad studying ballet and its applications in figure skating. Where were the chain link fences and sprawling greenery?

I parked in a visitor's space out front, since technically I had yet to actually attend classes. There was a small sign over the front door. I had to dig out my Russian to English dictionary from my backpack to be able to decipher it. It read: FRONT OFFICE. Simple enough. No one else had parked here yet, so I wasn't sure if it was off limits to me or not, but I would rather risk disciplinary action than circle around campus like an idiot. I stepped unwillingly out of my toasty warm car and into the still falling snow, walking down a long drive in between two corridors that had been cleared, probably recently. Maybe someone had shoveled the walk ways earlier that morning. I silently thanked whoever it was, took a deep cleansing breath, and opened the door.

Inside, it was brightly lit, and warmer than I expected. The office was small; a waiting area with padded navy blue chairs, carpeted flooring, notices pinned to a cork board beside the counter, and a big clock that ticked loudly and seemed to echo in the small space. Plants of all sizes bloomed in plastic pots, probably owing to the absence of greenery outside. The room was cut in half by a long counter, two wire baskets - one filled to the brim and one only half empty - stood side by side, brochures standing sentry beside them. There were three desks behind the counter, one of which was manned by a large blonde woman with sharp blue eyes and horn rimmed glasses. She was wearing a smart pant suit, which immediately made me feel under dressed.

"Can I help you?" she asked in Russian, looking up from her computer. Her accent was so thick, I barely understood the simple greeting.

"My name is Yuuri Katsuki," I informed her in slightly accented English, remembering at the last second to switch my surname to the end instead of the beginning. I didn't trust myself to speak in the native language, not until I absolutely had to.

Seeing the immediate awareness dawn in her eyes, I knew then that I was expected. A chubby Japanese boy from a small town, undoubtedly a source of gossip. The son of the _starshina's_ silly ex-wife, come back at last.

"Of course," she replied, switching over to accented English, probably as a courtesy to me. She dug through a precariously stacked pile of documents on her desk until she found the ones she was looking for. "I have your schedule here, and a map of the school." She brought several sheets to the counter to show me, along with a standard issue black leotard that appeared to be close to my size.

She went through my classes for me, highlighting the best route to each on the map, and gave me a slip to have each teacher sign, which I was to bring back at the end of the day. She gave me an appraising sort of look and then smiled, hoping perhaps, like Toshiya, I would like it here in St. Petersburg. I smiled back as convincingly as I could.

When I went back out to my car, other students were starting to arrive. I drove around campus, following the line of traffic. I was glad to see that most of the cars were older models like mine, nothing too flashy. At home, hardly anyone drove, although at my old university back in Detroit, it was common practice to drive to and from class. It was common in America to see Lincolns and even a couple Mercedes in the student lot if you were really well off. The nicest car here was a shiny silvery blue [Audi](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/a3/e5/b7/a3e5b7ea1b49a8f2817458dae01f063f.jpg), and it stood out. Still, I cut the engine as soon as I put it in park, not wanting to draw attention to myself.

I studied the map in the car, trying to memorize it now; hopefully I wouldn't have to walk around with it stuck in my nose all day. I tucked everything neatly inside my bag, slung the strap over my shoulder, and sucked in a huge breath. _I can do this,_ I lied to myself feebly. No one was going to bite me. I finally exhaled and stepped out of the car.

I kept my face pulled back into the hood of my parka as I walked to the sidewalk, crowded with teenagers and young adults alike. My heavy brown coat didn't stand out, I noticed with relief.

Once inside, I followed two unisex coats down the brightly lit white corridor, flanked on either side by beautiful paintings. I felt my breathing gradually quicken towards the point of hyperventilation as I approached the door to my first classroom. I tried holding my breath as I followed the two in front of me inside.

The classroom itself was a bit small, the high arched ceiling soaring to the heavens. At a brief first glance, there were three rows of tiered seats that rose like bleachers. The two people in front of me stopped just inside the door to hang up their coats on a long row of hooks. I copied them, taking off my hat and scarf and stuffing them in my bag. The gloves went in my pants pockets. It was warm enough inside that I wouldn't need them. Both people I followed inside had dark skin and identical violet eyes. Probably related. At least my skin tone wouldn't be seen as out of place here.

I took the slip up to the teacher, a tall brunette with a tiny mole under her left eye. I took a liking to her immediately. The shiny name plate on her desk identified has as Okukawa, Minako. My eyes must have reached the proportions of saucers. _The_ Okukawa Minako? Ballet legend and _prima ballerina_? Wow, talk about a small world. A toothy grin spread across her lips when she saw my name. I smiled sheepishly in response, no doubt flushing a bright pink. I was thankful she sent me to a seat on the third row at the very back. There's no telling how much I would have stuttered had I been forced to introduce myself to the class. It was harder for my new classmates to stare at me from the back, but somehow they managed anyway.

I kept my eyes down on the syllabus the teacher had given me. It wasn't too bad, just what you would expect from a third year French course. It was practically required in the ballet field, at least so you could remember all the dancing terms. I'd never be fluent, but it couldn't hurt to try. I'd taken most of the tests on the syllabus, which was comforting. I wondered if my mom would send me my folder of old French notes, or if she would think that was cheating. I went through several different scenarios in my head while Ms. Okukawa gave an expressive lecture on conjugating verbs. Typical; I had to sit through the worst part of learning a new language on my first day here.

When the bell rang, a muted klaxon that echoed in the narrow corridors, a rather small teenage boy with slicked back dirty blond hair, a bright red streak slashing his fringe down the middle, and bright, expressive eyes turned around to lock gazes with me from the seat directly in front of mine.

"You're Katsuki Yuuri, right?" He looked like the overly helpful golden retriever type, with his wide russet brown eyes and light, eager voice.

"Yuuri," I corrected. He definitely wasn't from around here. Another Japanese boy studying abroad? What are the odds?

"Where's your next class?" he asked. 

Everyone within a three seat radius turned to look at me. I had to check my schedule in my bag just to be sure.

"Um, Russian Language and Literature, with Feltsman, in room 36B."

There was nowhere to look without curious eyes taking me in from behind curtains of hair or over the tops of books.

"Oh, I'm headed toward 32A! I could show you the way." Definitely overly helpful and eager, though not necessarily in a bad way. He seemed friendly and cheerful enough. "I'm Minami," he added, standing and sticking out his hand to shake.

"Thank you," I smiled tentatively, grasping his hand and giving it a shake.

He seemed totally starstruck and kept staring at his hand as we retrieved our coats, scarves, hats, and gloves, heading once more out into the snow. Thankfully, it had stopped altogether, for which I was immensely grateful. I could have sworn a few people behind us were walking close enough to eavesdrop. Maybe I was just being paranoid.

"So, this must be very different than Japan, huh?" he asked, turning to face me again, a bright grin stretching across his lips. I belatedly realized we'd been going back and forth in Japanese and I hadn't even noticed. That would explain the stares we were getting. Maybe it was just me.

"Very."

"Which part are you from?"

An innocent enough question. Maybe I could finally find someone to talk to who actually spoke my native language.

"Kyushu. You?"

He seemed to wriggle with excitement.

"Chugoku!" he exclaimed, stars in his eyes.

A few months of this and I would forget what it was like to feel lonely.

We walked down another brightly lit, narrow corridor lined with more paintings. Minami walked me right to the door, even though we had passed his classroom a moment earlier.

"Well, good luck," he said as I reached for the handle. "Feltsman is a bit gruff, but don't worry too much. I hope we have some other classes together!"

He sounded hopeful, and I found myself not minding too much if that happened to be the case.

I tossed him a grateful smile and opened the door, heading inside.

Minami had been right. Feltsman was gruff to the point of being crotchety. An elderly man with a receding grey hairline, he pulled no punches when it came to talking about the many books we'd be studying. He eyed me carefully when I handed him the slip, muttered something in Russian I didn't quite catch, and directed me to a seat in the second row, against one of the many windows lining the wall. 

My next class wasn't so bad. History was taught by a woman from South Korea named Min-so Park. She was stern, but fair. She smiled kindly at me when I handed her the slip. The only empty seat was right by the door, which I sank resolutely into. At least I would always be the first person to leave.

My math teacher, an older bald gentleman named Josef Karpisek, who I would have pegged as someone easy going and jovial, was the only one to make me stand in front of the class to introduce myself. I stammered only once before bowing at the waist and trudging, embarrassed, to my seat in the back row beside the wall. He had large handwriting, so at least I would be able to see it, even with my glasses, from all the way back there.

After a couple of classes, I started to recognize several of the faces I had seen. There was always someone braver than the others who would introduce themselves, speaking in slow, simple Russian so I could understand them. They would ask me questions about how I was liking St. Petersburg so far, and how it compared to my home country. I tried to be diplomatic, answering every question I could with short, simple sentences. At least I never needed the map.

One girl sat next to me in both Math and French, and she walked with me to the cafeteria for lunch. She was tiny, several inches shorter than my five foot eight inches, but her bubbly personality made it seem like she was much bigger than she seemed. I think her name was Nishi-something. Struggling to remember, I just smiled and nodded as she talked enthusiastically about ballet. I made an effort to try and keep up so as to not appear rude.

We sat at the end of a long, wooden table, already half full with students, who she introduced me to. It was hard to keep the name to the face, though at least none of them spoke Russian any better than I did. I remembered the dark-skinned twins I had followed into my first class that morning. They were called Sala and Michele Crispino. Michele eyed me up and down with a fierce glint in his deep violet eyes, scooting his chair closer to Sala, who just smiled cheerfully at me. Most everyone seemed impressed by her bravery in speaking to me. The boy from my French class, Minami, waved at me from across the room.

It was there, sitting in the lunch room, trying to make conversation with seven curious strangers, that I first saw them.

They were sitting at a small round table in the corner of the cafeteria, as far away from where I sat as possible in the long room. There were five of them. They seemed to be talking softly to one another, but they were not eating. Each of them had a nearly untouched tray of food in front of them. They weren't gawking at me, unlike most of the other students, so it was safe to stare at them without fear of meeting an excessively interested pair of eyes. However, none of these things caught and held my attention.

They didn't look anything alike. Of the three boys, one was dark haired, styled in a sleek sort of quiff and had a quiet kind of sorrow about him I couldn't place. Another was tall and lean, but built like a gymnast, and his corn silk blond hair caught the lights every time he moved. The last was the taller of the three, more muscular than the other two, with neat, platinum silver hair that covered one eye. He seemed more like a teacher than a student, and I wondered why he would be sitting with the others, who very clearly were students.

The girls were opposites. The tall one was statuesque with a figure most girls back home would kill for, the kind you saw on the covers of magazines. She had dark, wavy hair that fell to mid back and plump, red lips. The shorter girl was more lithe, but still muscular. Her dark red hair fell to curl softly about her chin, which she tucked behind an ear as she spoke, leaning toward the blond boy across from her who scowled in response.

Despite their differences, they seemed exactly alike. Every one of them was decidedly pale, even more so than everyone else who lived in this sunless place. They all had beautiful eyes, bright and crystalline despite the variety in hair color. They also had dark shadows under their eyes, muted purple shadows that were hardly noticeable, even from this distance. Maybe they were suffering the after effects of exam week, despite the fact that each of them looked as fresh as a daisy.

This was not why I couldn't look away.

I was staring at these strangers because they, despite their unique characteristics, were all achingly, _inhumanly_ beautiful. They were the kinds of faces you never expected to see except perhaps on the airbrushed pages of a fashion magazine, or sculpted from exquisite marble by Bernini himself. It was hard to decide who was the most beautiful - maybe the short redhead, or the tall, silver haired man. 

They were all engaged in their own conversation - save for the man, who had a book open in his lap and was quietly reading - as far as I could tell. As I watched, the redhead giggled and stood, taking her nearly untouched tray with her; the blond boy made a rather rude gesture at her retreating back. She walked away with quick, graceful steps, like the kind you saw in an American beauty pageant. I watched, transfixed on her lithe dancer's steps, as she dumped her tray and glided out of the back door, faster than I would have thought possible. My eyes darted back to the others at my table who sat unchanging, not bothering to pay any mind to the group of gorgeous angels at the back of the room.

"Who are _they_?" I asked the girl from my French class, whose name I was still struggling to remember.

As she looked up to see who I meant - though she probably already knew just from my tone of voice - the silver haired man looked at her, the muscular Adonis, the one reading the book casually sprawled in his lap, and perhaps the oldest one at that table. He looked at my neighbor for maybe half a second before his dark, stormy grey eyes flickered to mine.

He looked away quickly, more so than I could have, though in a flush of embarrassment, I dropped eye contact at once. In that brief glance of no more than a couple seconds at most, his face held nothing of interest. She might have called his name and he'd looked up in an involuntary response, already deciding not to answer her.

My neighbor sighed wistfully, though she kept her eyes down at the table.

"That's Victor Nikiforov, Yuri Plisetsky, and Anya and Georgi Popovich. The one who left was Mila Babicheva; they all live together with Dr. Nikiforov and his wife." She resorted to whispering, probably embarrassed at having been caught staring.

I glanced sideways at the beautiful man, who had closed his book and was leaning forward, elbows planted on the table and chin in steepled fingers. His mouth moved very quickly, his perfect lips barely opening. The other three had fallen silent, as though they were hanging onto every word he was saying.

 _Strange, common Russian names,_ I thought. The kinds of names you often saw multiples of in a phone book. I finally remembered that my neighbor was called Yuuko, another common name, at least in Japan.

"They're, uh.. very good looking." The obvious understatement made me twinge. 

"Yes!" Yuuko agreed with another wistful sigh. "They're _together_ , though. Georgi and Anya, I mean. They even _live_ together." Her voice held no judgement, only a hint of longing. Even back in Hasetsu, this sort of thing would cause gossip.

"Which ones are Georgi and Anya?" I asked. "None of them really look related."

"Oh, they're not. Dr. Nikiforov is really young, in his late twenties or early thirties. They're all adopted. Foster children," she elaborated at the blank look on my face. I nodded to show I understood.

"They look a bit old to be foster children." Well, only the silver-haired man looked rather old to be one.

When I chanced a second glance, the silver-haired man in question frowned, almost pouting in a way. The blond rolled his eyes and tossed a rolled up bit of paper at him, which bounced harmlessly off his hair to land on the floor. He briefly massaged the area, pout still in place.

"Well, Georgi and Anya are now, they're the ones with dark hair. They both turned twenty five a few months ago, but they've been with Mrs. Nikiforov since they were very young. She's their aunt, I think."

"That's kind of nice - for them to take everyone in like that, even though they're all adults."

"Victor Nikiforov is the oldest. Actually, he teaches Classical Dance here, so maybe you'll see him in class later. He holds a private study group sometimes during lunch. He's also the reason most people take the course," she said with a roll of her eyes. "I think that's why they were all adopted, though. I'm not sure if Mrs. Nikiforov can have children," she added as an after thought.

Throughout the conversation, my eyes flickered again and again towards the little round table at the back where the strange family sat. Their conversation had ended, and now they were looking at anywhere but each other. 

"Have they always lived in St. Petersburg?" I asked, toying with the contents of my own tray without really paying attention to what I was eating. Surely I would have noticed them during one of my summers here.

"No," she said, blinking at me curiously, as though it should be obvious. "They just moved here a couple of years ago from Vladivostok, on the very south-eastern tip of the country."

I felt a surge of relief mixed with pity. Pity because, as beautiful as they all undoubtedly were, they were still considered outsiders. Relief as I didn't seem to be the only newcomer here, and definitely not the most interesting by anyone's standards.

As I examined them, the eldest, the one with the silver hair, looked up and met my gaze, this time with evident curiosity in his expression. I looked swiftly away, taking off my glasses to polish the lenses on the hem of my shirt. It seemed as though his eyes held some sort of unmet expectation.

"Which one is the man with silver hair?" I asked, putting my glasses back on and peeking at him from my peripheral. He was still staring at me, but at least he wasn't gawking openly like the other students had today - he seemed slightly frustrated judging by the twist of his lips. I hastily looked back at Yuuko again.

"Oh, that's Victor Nikiforov, though I suppose it's _Master_ Nikiforov to us students. He's gorgeous of course, but _definitely_ off limits." She sighed, tossing a coy glance at a boy at the next table over. He had a large nose, short cropped black hair, and looked more like a weight lifter than a dancer. He returned the gaze once he realized he was being stared at, and threw a grin Yuuko's way. "Besides," she added, "I'm already spoken for anyway."

I bit my lip to hide the smile that threatened to break free. When I glanced his way again, Master Nikiforov's face was turned away, but I thought his lips might have curled upwards, as though he were smiling, too.

After a few more minutes, the four of them left the table together. They were all noticeably graceful, more so than any dancer I'd ever seen. It was almost unsettling to watch, knowing I would never achieve that level of beauty. Master Nikiforov did not look at me again. He tucked his book under his arm and dumped his nearly untouched tray before leaving right behind the others.

I sat there with Yuuko and her friends longer than I would have if I'd been sitting alone. I was anxious not to be late for class on my first day. One of my new acquaintances, who considerately reminded me that her name was Ketty, had Classical Dance with me the next hour. We walked to class together in companionable silence. She was shy, too.

When we entered the studio, Ketty and the other female students headed off to a side room to change. After taking a deep breath, I followed suit with the few other male students. I didn't make eye contact with anyone as I changed quickly into the simple black leotard and ballet slippers issued to me at the front office earlier that morning. I would get my own eventually, but for now, these would have to do. The leotard was a bit tight around the middle, but there was nothing to be done about it. My own ballet slippers were ones I'd had for years, having brought them from home.

After everyone had changed, I followed them back into the studio. As Yuuko had predicted, Master Nikiforov was indeed there, leaning lightly against the golden barre that wound around one wall, his reflection multiplied in the mirrors lining the other. Even in his simple black clothing and slippers, he looked _angelic._ It was hard not to give the man doe eyes; a few girls were doing just that as they were putting their hair up into buns or pinning it back with bobby pins.

Steeling myself, I walked forward, the slip all the teachers had to sign clutched in my fist. I'd had no choice but to leave my glasses behind with my regular clothes, so I couldn't entirely rely on sight alone but I thought he looked.. furious? I froze a few feet away, unsure if I was the cause. His eyes narrowed slightly in my direction, meeting my frightened gaze easily. One could get lost in eyes like that. I gulped, no doubt flushing scarlet. I nearly shook as I held out the hand clutching the slip, looking like a deer caught in headlights. 

With those narrowed grey eyes still fixed on my face, he gingerly took the slip from me, as though afraid to make skin contact. Pulling a pen from the light sweater tied around his waist, he quickly signed, holding it out to me when he was finished, all without saying a word. I took a peek at the slip before going back to stuff it in my bag. Even his handwriting was fluid and graceful, almost like calligraphy.

When I returned, he was busy directing the dancers into stretching exercises. He refused to go near me, choosing to pass right on by to help the other students with their stretches instead. Resigning myself to a year and half of this treatment, I followed suit without complaint. I checked to make sure I'd put deodorant on this morning while taking first position fifteen minutes later. I had. Sandalwood and mahogany - an innocent enough odor. I did my best to pay attention, despite the seemingly hostile treatment I'd received, wondering what on earth I had done to deserve it.

Unfortunately, the lesson was on something I had already studied back at my old university in Detroit. I paid attention and followed directions anyway, intent on proving I was worth more than a lowly gaze.

I couldn't stop myself from peeking occasionally at the strange instructor throughout the lesson. He never relaxed the stiff set of his shoulders for the whole hour, and refused to come near me, even to correct my position when I was sure it wasn't as straight as everyone else's. When he folded his arms as he watched us go through the motions, his hands were clenched into fists close to his side. He was slightly more muscular than both his male companions at lunch. 

The class seemed to drag on longer than the others had. Was it because the day was finally coming to a close, or because I was waiting for the stiff set of his shoulders to relax? They never did; he continued to stand rigidly in place, putting us through the paces. It looked like he wasn't even breathing. His voice was like nothing I had ever heard before - his accent was light and lilting, as though he was always on the verge of singing. He spoke Russian like a native, and the French terms rolled off his tongue like he'd been born to say them. The sound of his voice was intoxicating. I could listen to it for the rest of my life and never get tired of hearing it.

His hardened demeanor had nothing to do with me. It couldn't. He didn't even _know_ me.

I peeked at him once more while taking fifth position and regretted it. He was glaring over at me again, his cloudy grey eyes full of revulsion. I flinched, shrinking away as much as I could while still maintaining proper posture. _If looks could kill,_ I thought numbly, _I would have been dead five times over._

Thankfully, the bell rang loudly, almost causing me to fall out of position. As soon as the last note faded, Master Nikiforov called an end to class, bid everyone goodbye, and was out the door before I even had a chance to fully relax my muscles. He was much taller than I had originally estimated - he had a few inches on me, at the very least.

I stood frozen, staring blankly after him as everyone around me stirred, going into their post stretches, or heading off back into their designated room to change out of their dance clothes. It wasn't fair! I began my own post stretch workout slowly, as though in a daze, trying to shove down the anger that began to fill me.

"Hi, Yuuri!" a bubbly male voice piped up as I left the class five minutes later, having changed out of my black leotard and back into my casual winter wear, glasses back on my face where they belonged.

Glancing around, I saw the boy from my French class this morning, the one with the stark red streak through his dirty blond hair.

"Hi, Minami," I answered, weary. I began to feel the physical toll ballet always had on my joints right away. My feet and thighs were starting to kill me, even though I'd stretched before and after the lesson. Guess that's what you get for taking a gap year and over eating.

"Do you need help finding your next class?" he asked, cheerful as ever. I kinda envied his energy. It was nearing the end of the day, and he still looked ready and raring to go.

"I'm headed to Physics, actually. I think I can find it." I was starting to warm up to Minami's retriever-like behavior, but it wasn't even the end of the day yet, and I was already tired.

"That's my next class, too!" He seemed thrilled, though it wasn't that big of a coincidence, really. The academy was large, but there was always a chance you would find a person you recognized in more than one class, at least.

We ended up walking to class together; he was quite the chatterbox, supplying most of the conversation, which made it easier for me. He'd lived in Japan until he was ten, so he knew how I felt about the sun and sea breeze. It turned out he was in my History class, too. He was the nicest person I'd met today.

As we were entering the Chemistry lab, he asked "So, did you make Master Nikiforov angry? I've never seen him act like that before. I saw him walking out of your class, and he looked _livid._ "

I cringed. So, I wasn't the only one who had noticed. Apparently, that wasn't Victor Nikiforov's usual behavior. I decided to play dumb.

"So, he isn't usually that tough on his students?"

"Oh, no. He's usually very suave and composed, even playful sometimes. He looked like he was in pain or something, though." he said, bringing a finger to tap at his lips as he thought.

"I didn't speak to him or do anything," I mumbled, looking around for the Chemistry teacher.

"Well, he's kind of eccentric, so don't take it personally." Minami lingered by me instead of heading to his own black topped table. "If I were lucky enough to sit by you, I would talk to you, but.." he trailed off with a sigh.

I smiled at him before finally spotting the teacher walk in the room. Waving to Minami, I dug the slip from my pocket and approached what appeared to be an Asian man in his late thirties, maybe early forties. He seemed friendly and no nonsense, so I knew we were going to get along. As he bent over his desk to sign my slip, I noticed from the corner of my eye another student enter the classroom. 

It was the blond from the beautiful group I'd witnessed at lunch. He came up to my chin in height, hair now pulled back into a sort of half ponytail at the back, blond fringe framing crystalline jade green eyes that immediately narrowed when he spotted me. It was only for a moment as he passed, heading to a table in the middle row closer to the window, but I saw hatred gleaming in the depths of those eyes. 

Was every inhuman beauty going to give me the stink eye today?

By now, all the lab tables had filled, except for one. The blond boy sat alone at his table, glaring out of the window into the snow glazed afternoon. The Chemistry teacher, Mister Oda, handed me the slip once he was finished, directing me to the only free seat available: right next to Mister Pint-Sized and Pissed Off. Taking a deep breath, perhaps for the hundredth time today, I made my way slowly down the aisle towards the empty chair, praying that whatever had happened to make him angry didn't actually involve me at all.

Back in Detroit, only two years of a science course were required, regardless of one's minor degree. In St. Petersburg, science was mandatory for the last four years spent at the academy. It really was like my own personal hell.

The second I sat down and took out the text book from the cubby under the desk, the boy immediately grew rigid. He sat at the very edge of his seat, leaning as far away as he possibly could, one fist clenched tightly in his lap. I kept my eyes down at my book, bewildered at the boy's antagonism, listening intently as Mister Oda took attendance. 

The boy growled out a "Present." when his name was called. Yuri Plisetsky. He was the one who had the same first name I did. That was going to get confusing fast. He wore the same expression Victor Nikiforov had when he had looked at me in the previous class: as though he had smelled something disgusting. This time, I wondered if I had sweat too much during ballet lessons. Still, that was no reason to be rude to someone you didn't know.

As soon as my name was called, I mimicked the other students', murmuring a quiet "Present." so as not to draw too much attention to myself. If I had thought Yuri Plisetsky had been angry before, I was _wrong._ I chanced a glance his way and immediately regretted it. He looked down right _pissed off_ , like someone had run over his cat or something. Swallowing thickly, I looked away, determined not to have a repeat performance of Victor Nikiforov.

Fortunately, the lecture was on electricity and magnetism, which I had already studied. I took solace in the familiarity and took notes anyway. Anything to keep my mind off of the angry boy sitting beside me, looking like he wanted nothing more than to shove my face into the black table top in front of us. He sat there, pissed off to the extreme and rigid as a statue, for the entire lesson. He did not take notes, he just glared at the teacher's back when he turned to write something on the white board.

Yuri Plisetsky was slight, yet had the definite bulk of a dancer in his late teens, maybe early twenties. The light streaming through the elegant white curtains made him look ethereal, almost fairy-like. Not that I would ever say that to his face. I rather like having all my limbs attached, thank you. He had the long sleeves of his white shirt pushed up to his elbows, his forearm surprisingly hard and muscular, the tendons standing out on his too-pale skin. Bernini's sculptures had nothing on him.

Was this the normal behavior of the Nikiforov's adopted sons and daughters? What was wrong with them? Just like Victor, Yuri Plisetsky looked so angry, he didn't appear to be breathing. Those killer looks sure ran in the family, adopted or not.

When the lesson was finally over, signaled by the klaxon that echoed up and down the halls, the blond got up so quickly, I nearly fell out of my chair. I made myself as small as possible as he passed me by. I blinked and the end of his coat tails were already fluttering outside the door. Sighing heavily with adamant relief, I packed up my notes and returned the text book to its cubby. 

I walked slowly to the office to return my paperwork, vaguely aware of the building's grand arched ceilings and crown molding. Minami waved as he left the class after me, casting a worried glance my way. I just shrugged like I was used to that kind of treatment. In hindsight, Yuri Plisetsky's behavior was almost endearing in a weird way. He seemed so much younger than he was, maybe that was why he looked more like a kitten than the raging tiger he made himself out to be.

The snow was now piled up in thick drifts on either side of the walkways. Even the parking lot had been somewhat cleared of the soft white substance. Looks like the academy prided itself on keeping things neat and trim, even on frighteningly cold days like this.

Wrapping my scarf more securely around my face as I opened the door with the other hand, I nearly turned back around and walked right out.  
Victor Nikiforov stood leaning on the counter in front of me. His platinum silver hair was far too easily recognizable. He didn't appear to notice the sound of my arrival, though. I stood pressed against the back wall, waiting for the receptionist to be free.

He was arguing with her in a low murmur, hands cupping his chin with his elbows resting on the counter itself. I quickly picked up the gist of the argument. He was trying to get me transferred to one of the other Classical Dance classes, any of the other classes would do.

I refused to believe this was about me. It _had_ to be something else, something that happened before I entered the dance studio. The look on his face when he saw me _must_ have been about another aggravation entirely, right? It was impossible that this stranger, along with his younger counterpart, could take such a sudden, intense dislike to me on sight alone.

The door opened again, letting in the frigid cold breeze, rustling the papers on the desk and blowing the strands of hair about my cheeks. The girl who came in merely stepped up to the desk, placed a piece of paper into one of the wire baskets, and left again, but the damage had been done. Victor Nikiforov's shoulders stiffened, and he turned his head slowly to glare at me, his eyes a roiling storm of fury. For an instant, I felt a thrill of genuine fear, raising the little hairs on the back of my neck. The look only lasted for a moment, but it chilled me to the bone, more so than the biting cold of Russia ever could. He turned back to the receptionist.

"I'm sorry, never mind," he said hastily, his lilting voice taking on a velvety, warm tone. "I can see that it's impossible. Thank you so much for your help." Without another word, he turned on his heel and disappeared out the door, not even bothering to look my way.

Counting myself lucky, I approached the counter for the second time that day, face stark white instead of bright red for a change, and handed her the slip.

"How did your first day go, Mister Katsuki?" the receptionist asked in English, her tone maternal.

"It went fine," I lied, clearing my throat a little too loudly. She didn't seem convinced.

When I got to my car, it was almost the last car in the lot. It seemed like a warm haven, already the closest thing to home I had in this arctic white hole. I sat inside for awhile, just staring blankly out of the snow streaked windshield. It was soon cold enough to need the heater, so I turned the key in the ignition, and the car roared to life before settling down to a gentle purr. It reminded me of Yuri Plisestky's attitude in a weird way. I headed to Toshiya's house, blinking away tears the whole journey back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's the God, who's the Kitten, and who's Yuuri's Worst Nightmare?  
> I'll give you a hint for the last one: it's not who you think it is.
> 
> Notes:
> 
> Vaganova Academy is a real place in St. Petersburg. I know very precious little about ballet itself, so if you see something that needs to be corrected, please don't hesitate to let me know!
> 
> The Itelman are a real Native tribe that still exist in Russia today. Twilight itself includes a real Native tribe, so I thought this story should also have one. I'll do my best to avoid cultural insensitivity.
> 
> If anyone can kindly point out where Minami is from, that would be super. It doesn't appear on his Wikia, so I just picked one from the three that they mention in episode five.
> 
> I picked an Audi for Victor's car instead of a Volvo because it just seemed more his style to me. Also, Audi's logo consists of four overlapping rings, and we all know how Victor Nikiforov feels about rings..
> 
> I tried to find the Russian equivalent of an American police Chief, and that's what I ended up coming up with. If there's a more accurate rank, please let me know. My internet time is sadly limited.
> 
> I picked Vladivostok because it is indeed located on the very south eastern tip of Russia, and also because it is the closest one to Japan, and far enough away from St. Petersburg where no one would know them. This will also be where the Denali clan (from the book) will be from. They'll be referred to as "Vladians". I hope that's not disrespectful.
> 
> Every character in YOI will have a role in the story, no matter how small. And I do mean everyone.


	3. You Read Me Like an Open Book

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's one surprise after another for poor Yuuri.
> 
> (In which Victor tries to be friendly, and Yuri Plisetsky tries not to strangle the two of them.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Two already! This took me almost two full days to write, what a doozy..
> 
> I honestly have nothing better to do than write. It's difficult being without regular internet access, so this is keeping me sane for now, as well as working on a couple of my other fics.
> 
> I guess you can expect weekly updates until I can get regular internet back. After that, who knows?
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading! Your encouragement keeps me going tbh. <3

The next day had its good points.. and its bad.

It hadn't begun to snow yet, though the clouds were dense and opaque. It was a bit easier, because now I knew what to expect. Minami came to sit by me in French, and walked me to my next class; that was honestly flattering. People didn't look at me quite as much as they had yesterday. I sat with a big group at lunch that included Minami, Michele and Sala Crispino, and a few others whose names and faces I finally remembered. I began to feel like I was getting the hang of this adjusting thing instead of just crashing and burning.

The bad points made themselves known eventually. I was still tired; I couldn't sleep with the wind echoing around the house. Mr. Karpisek called on me during math when my hand wasn't raised, and I ended up blurting out the wrong answer on accident. The embarrassed flush didn't ease up until I left for my next class. I was almost late to his class to begin with, so maybe that had been the reason. Still, no need to take it out on the new guy. It was even worse because Victor Nikiforov wasn't in school at all.

All morning I dreaded the lunch period, fearing his bizarre glares. A small part of me wanted to confront him and ask him what his problem was. I even imagined what I would say while I lay awake the previous night. I knew myself better than to think I would actually do it, though. He was the teacher, and I was the student. I didn't have the guts; I wasn't spineless, I just pick and chose my battles, and this was a battle I would likely lose.

When I walked into the cafeteria with Yuuko - trying to keep my eyes from sweeping the room, on the look out for the tell tale flash of silver hair, and failing spectacularly - I saw that his four siblings of sorts were sitting together at the same table, and he was not with them.

Minami interrupted us and steered us to his table. Yuuko looked delighted at the prospect, and her friends quickly joined us. I tried to listen to their chatter, but I was terribly uncomfortable, waiting nervously for the moment he would arrive. I hoped that he'd just ignore me when he did come, and prove my suspicions false.

He didn't come to lunch, and as time passed, I grew more and more restless. Before the bell rang, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Yuri Plisetsky look my way. He wasn't smiling, but he wasn't glaring either. He just.. _stared_. When he realized I had caught him, he snorted and looked away.

I walked to Physics with slightly less apprehension when Victor Nikiforov still had not shown up, leaving Ms. Okukawa to teach his lesson instead. She was a lot more willing to help with correcting my posture, and even made me go through basic drills until I could do them with my eyes closed.

Minami, who hadn't let up on the golden retriever routine, walked faithfully by my side to class afterward. I held my breath at the door, but Yuri Plisetsky wasn't there either. Not yet, anyway. Sighing with relief, I went to my seat. Minami followed, talking about an upcoming trip to the beach. He lingered by my desk until the bell rang, right as Yuri Plisetsky whipped around the edge of the door and into the room. Minami tossed me an encouraging smile and went off to sit at his own desk.

He seemed like a good kid, even if he did end up putting me on a pedestal. I'd have to nip that in the bud sooner or later. I had little practice dealing with overly friendly teenagers, but I had a feeling we would still get along.

The other Yuri scooted passed me to flop in his seat at our table. He didn't look as angry as he had yesterday, for which I was immediately thankful, but it didn't look like he was in the mood for idle conversation, either. That was fine, I could keep to myself. I still couldn't rid myself of the nagging suspicion that I was the cause of that anger, though. It was ridiculous, not to mention egotistical, to think that I could affect anyone that strongly. 

Yuri Plisetsky did not speak to me; he just sat there, as rigid and still as a statue and leaning slightly away from me. I remembered to put on deodorant before leaving my dance lesson last period, so there was no way I smelled that bad. At least he wasn't glaring at me with hate-filled, glass green eyes. When I dared to take a second look, they looked a bit more dull than they had yesterday. Maybe it was just the lighting.

When the bell rang, Yuri Plisetsky shot off like a rocket out of his seat, disappearing out the door before I had even begun to pack up my bag. Still confused about what his deal was, I left the room in a hurry before Minami could follow. I needed some time alone, and I didn't want to make up some excuse. I walked swiftly out to the parking lot, now crowded with fleeing students. I got in my car, digging through my bag to make sure I had what I needed.

Last night, I'd discovered that Toshiya didn't cook much, barely able to scrape two servings between us. In light of this, I requested he give me kitchen duty for the duration of my stay. He'd been more than willing to hand over the responsibility. Unfortunately, we had no food in the house. So, with Toshiya's permission, I made a shopping list and took the money from a jar labeled FOR FOOD in both Japanese and Russian from on top of the fridge, and now I was on my way to the super market. 

I gunned the deafening engine to life, ignoring the heads that turned in my direction, and backed carefully into a place in the line of cars that were waiting to exit the parking lot. As I waited for the noise of the engine to quiet to a rumbling purr, trying to pretend it was coming from someone else's car, I saw the Popovich's, Yuri Plisetsky, and Mila Babicheva getting into their car. It was the shiny new Audi. Figures. 

I hadn't noticed their clothes before - I'd been too mesmerized with their faces. Now that I bothered to notice, it was obvious they were all dressed exceptionally well; simply, but in clothes that subtly hinted at designer origins. With their remarkable good looks, and the style with which they carried themselves, they could have worn filthy rags and pulled it off. It seemed terribly unfair for them to have both looks and money, but sometimes life just worked that way. It didn't look as though it bought them any acceptance here.

No, that wasn't it. Isolation must have been the whole point; I couldn't imagine any door that wouldn't be open by that degree of beauty. 

They glanced at my noisy car as I passed them, just like everyone else. I kept my gaze forward, determined not to see their reactions, and was thoroughly relieved when I was finally free of the academy grounds.

The super market was across town, right off main street. It was nice to be inside; it felt normal. I had done my own shopping back in Detroit, and even before I attended college, I helped out around the inn back in Hasetsu. I fell into the pattern of the familiar task gladly. The foreign Cyrillic gave me pause, but I was able to navigate well enough with assistance from my English to Russian dictionary and a few friendly locals. Soon enough, my cart was full of the essentials - including the ingredients for _katsudon_ , my favorite dish - and I was on my way home before I knew it.

When I got home, I unloaded all the groceries, organizing them neatly in the kitchen cabinets. I hoped Toshiya wouldn't mind. Setting everything I needed to make _katsudon_ out for later, I grabbed my duffel bag and headed upstairs to my room. Before starting on homework, I changed into a pair of clean sweat pants, a dark t-shirt, and brushed my hair. One that was done, I checked my e-mail for the first time; I had three messages.

>   
>  _Yuuri,_
> 
> _Write to me as soon as you can, dear. How was your flight?_  
>  I hope it isn't snowing too much. I miss you already. The hot springs are still as lively as ever.  
>  I love you. -Mom

Smiling fondly, I clicked on the next one. This one had been sent yesterday afternoon.

>   
>  _Yuuri,_
> 
> _I heard the famous ballet teacher, Okukawa Minako, was teaching at your school. That sounds exciting!_  
>  How was your first day of classes? I hope you didn't get lost or too anxious. Did you make any new friends?  
>  Let me know as soon as you can. 
> 
> _Love, Mom_

The last one was from this morning. It was from Mari.

>   
>  _Yuuri,_
> 
> _Why haven't you answered mom back yet? She might actually call Dad if you don't.  
>  Either that, or I will._

I spluttered once I got to the last line of the e-mail.

> _Also, have you met any hot guys yet? I'm sure Russia is full of them._
> 
> _Love, Mari_

Checking the clock, I still had a little over an hour left until Toshiya got back from work. With a sigh, I shot off an e-mail to Mari first. It was better to get it over with than to linger on it for too long.

> Mari,
> 
> _I'm about to answer Mom, just hold on!! ｍ(｡≧Д≦｡)ｍ_  
>  No, I haven't met any guys yet, it's only been two days!  
>  At least, I haven't met anyone who wants anything to do with me.  
>  Please take care of Mom while I'm away, you know how she worries. 
> 
> _Love, Yuuri_

Sending that one off, I opened up a new message, this one for my mother.

>   
>  _Mom,_
> 
> _The flight was pretty long, and I didn't sleep much. The in flight movie was in Russian, so I didn't understand most of it, even with English subtitles. It wasn't so bad, though._  
>  It finally stopped snowing, but I'm sure it'll pick back up again. It's tough to work through, but I'll manage.  
>  I'm glad Yu-Topia is still doing well. I miss soaking in the hot springs.. ・:*(〃∇〃人)*:・  
>  Ms. Okukawa is pretty nice. She teaches French, but she also substitute teaches Classical Dance for when my teacher is out. 

I did not mention Victor by name, or his unfair treatment of me on my first day there. She didn't need to know about my boy troubles.

>   
> _My first day went as expected. Everyone stared at me and asked me lots of questions. It was a bit unnerving, but I managed without getting too anxious. I met a few people who sit by me at lunch. Two of them are twins, a boy and girl. They have violet eyes, which is pretty cool. One kid has a red streak in his blond hair, and he's also Japanese. It was a relief to be able to speak the language with someone here._  
>  Dad bought me a car, too. It's an older model, but it handles well. I love it, I'll have to send you a picture some time.  
> I miss you, too, Mom. Be sure to leave plenty of steamed buns for Vicchan for me.
> 
> _Love, Yuuri_

With that finished, I went downstairs to start on the _katsudon_. My homework could wait until after dinner, I didn't have much.

***

I had just finished putting the finishing touches on dinner when Toshiya came home. I'd lost track of time, and hurriedly put the used dishes in the sink and left over ingredients in the fridge or back in the cabinet.

"I'm home!" My father called out when he heard me bustling about in the kitchen.

"Welcome home, Dad!" I called back, setting two steaming bowls of _katsudon_ on the kitchen table.

"Thank you, Yuuri." He hung up his gun belt and took off his boots before going to wash his hands in the kitchen sink. As far I knew, he'd never had to use the gun on the job. He kept it loaded, though. When I came here as a child, he would always take out the bullets before hanging it up by the door. I guess he considered me old enough now not to shoot myself on accident, or depressed enough to shoot myself on purpose.

"What's for dinner?" he asked, sniffing the air appreciatively. My mother is an excellent cook, and I learned everything I knew from her. I was surprised he hadn't already guessed, seeing as it was our inn's specialty dish.

" _Katsudon_ ," I answered, grabbing two pairs of chopsticks and setting them by each bowl. His eyes crinkled at the edges when he smiled. After the table had been set and the tea poured, we each sat down across from one another, Toshiya removing his hat and placing it on the back of his chair.

" _Itadakimasu_ ," Toshiya murmured, and I followed suit not a second after.

We grabbed our chopsticks and ate in silence for a few minutes. The silence wasn't uncomfortable this time. Neither of us was bothered by the quiet. In some ways, we were well suited to live together.

"So, how do you like your classes so far? Have you made any new friends?" he asked as he was finishing the last bites of the rice.

"Well, I have a class with a girl named Yuuko. I sit with her friends at lunch. There's also this boy, Minami, who's very friendly. Everyone seems pretty nice." _With one outstanding exception._

"Ah, that must be Minami Kenjirou. A nice kid, and a good family. His father owns the fishing and sporting goods store on the outskirts of town. He makes a good living off the fisherman and hunters who pass through here."

That was kind of interesting. I would have to ask Minami about that some time.

"Do you know the Nikiforov family?" I asked hesitantly, collecting our empty bowls and utensils, heading to the sink to start the dishes.

"Ah, you mean Dr. Nikiforov and his family? Of course. Dr. Nikiforov is a great man."

"Well, his children are a little.. different. They don't seem to fit in very well at the academy."

Toshiya surprised me by frowning, coming to help dry the dishes off before placing them back in the cabinet above the sink.

"Yuuri, people in this city like their order," he began patiently. My father never raised his voice if he could help it. "Doctor Nikiforov is a brilliant surgeon who could probably work in any hospital in the world, and make at least ten times the money he gets here," he continued, motioning for another dish to dry. I obliged, waiting on his response. "We are very lucky to have him, and lucky that his wife wanted to live in a port city like this one. He's an asset to our community, and all of their children are well-behaved and polite. Now, I had my doubts about the Plisetsky boy when they first moved in, being a moody teenager and all. I thought we might have some problems with him, but he turned out to be very mature for his age, all of them are. I haven't had an ounce of trouble from any of them, and that is more than I can say for the children of those who have lived in this city for generations. They stick together, the way a family should. They go camping almost every other weekend out passed the Itelmen Reservation. Just because they are newcomers, does not mean the people of this city need to gossip about them."

It was the longest speech I'd ever heard Toshiya make. He must feel strongly about whatever people said about the Nikiforov's and their adopted children. I backpedaled, trying to find something positive to say about them.

"They seemed nice enough to me, I just noticed they kept to themselves. They're all very attractive," I added, trying to be more complimentary. 

"You should see the doctor and his wife," Toshiya said, a smile crinkling the edges of his eyes. "It's a good thing they are happily married. I daresay a lot of the nurses at the hospital have a hard time concentrating when Dr. Nikiforov is around."

We lapsed into silence as we finished the dishes. There was no dishwasher, so we had to do it all by hand. I didn't mind; it was cathartic in a way. It was something I didn't have to think about, just do. As soon as we finished, Toshiya went off to his room to change out of his uniform completely, and I trudged down the hall to my own room to work unwillingly on my math homework. I could feel a tradition forming.

That night, it was finally quiet. I could hear the sounds of the city late at night, but unlike the howling wind and snow, it lulled me to sleep.

***

The rest of the week was uneventful. I got used to the routine of my classes. By Friday, I was able to recognize, if not name, all the students in my classes. Ms. Okukawa continued to substitute for my Classical Dance lessons.

Victor Nikiforov did not come back to the academy.

Every day, I watched anxiously until the rest of the Nikiforov's adopted children entered the cafeteria without him; then I could finally relax and join in the lunchtime conversation. It mostly centered around a trip to the Itelman Rez Ocean Park in two weeks that Minami was putting together. I was invited, and I had agreed to go, more so out of politeness than desire. Beaches should be hot and dry, and not filled with slippery ice and fluffy snow.

By Friday, I was almost comfortable entering my Physics class, no longer worried about Yuri Plisetsky trying to bite my head off. For all I knew, whatever had caused his anger (I still refused to believe it had been about me) must have abated. Or at least settled down into casual dislike. He still hadn't said a word to me directly, though I could have sworn he had muttered something along the lines of "stinking piggy" when I sat down before the lesson began. 

Sure that I had misheard him, I turned to my left, opening my mouth, only to shut it immediately at the look on the boy's face. Yuri Plisetsky was scowling, nose in the air and staring straight at me. Today, his eyes seemed more grey than green, a dull mix between the two. Somehow, he looked more frightening than he had all week. Swallowing a sarcastic response to his raised eyebrow, I turned back to the front of the room, where Mister Oda was taking attendance. I kept my head down and took notes again when the lecture began. The other Yuri went back to staring out of the window, chin propped in his palm with a thoughtful frown on his face.

As the lesson ended and the final bell rang, Yuri Plisetsky was the first one out the door as usual. I had the distinct impression he might blame me for Victor not coming to teach his lessons as usual. But that was ridiculous. Even so, I couldn't help but wonder if I wasn't so far off the mark.

***

My first weekend in St. Petersburg passed by without incident. Toshiya, unused to spending so much time in an empty house, worked most of the weekend. I cleaned the house, got ahead on my homework, and e-mailed my mother daily updates on my rather boring life. I did drive around the city on Saturday, looking for an ice rink to practice on. The one I did manage to find was so packed with children and parents, my hands started to sweat. I would have to find out when it wasn't so full of people, and if it could be booked for a couple of hours. According to the lady at the front desk, it was always packed with people looking to put their blades to the ice. Only in the evenings on weekdays did the traffic slow to a trickle. I thanked her for her time and left, making a note to ask Toshiya where the best place to practice was.

I wondered what gas mileage my old car got, and immediately cringed. Looks like I'd be confined to the city for now.

The snow stayed light over the weekend, and the wind was quiet, so I was able to sleep pretty well for a change.

***

People greeted me in the parking lot on Monday morning. I didn't know all their names, but I waved back and smiled at everyone. It was cold this morning, but happily not snowing. In French, Minami took his usual seat in front of me. We had a surprise quiz on the names and accomplishments of French authors, scholars, and poets. It was pretty straightforward; I had no difficulties with it.

At this point, I was starting to feel a lot more comfortable than I thought I would; more so than I ever expected to feel here.

When we walked out of class, the air was full of dancing, twirling snowflakes. I could hear the beginnings of snow angels being made somewhere off to my right. The wind bit at my cheeks and nose, staining them pink with cold.

"Wow," Minami whispered. "It's snowing again."

I looked at the little cotton fluffs that were building up rapidly along the sidewalk and swirling erratically past my face.

"So it is," I remarked casually. By now, I was used to it. It seemed different here than in Japan, but to me, snow was still snow.

"Don't you like the snow here, Yuuri?" Minami looked like Christmas had come early.

"I like it well enough, I guess. That means it's cold enough for water to freeze. Good weather for ice skating," I added at the puzzled look on the teen's face.

"I didn't know you liked to ice skate!" he exclaimed, ducking a misplaced snowball. It soared over him, hitting Michele Crispino in the back of the head, who was walking with his sister Sala ahead of us. When he whipped around to see who had thrown the offending ball of white, I quickly pointed somewhere off behind me. Sala giggled as her brother bent to quickly mold a snowball with his hands, intent on revenge.

"Of course, I love to skate," I told Minami, who was trying his very best to dodge the next snowball that came hurtling his way.

Unfortunately for him, he wasn't quite quick enough. The next snowball hit him right in the mouth. He went down laughing. Jumping back up, we both looked up to spot Michele walking away with his arm tightly around Sala's shoulder - in the wrong direction for his next class. Minami, harboring the suspicion that the Italian was just as guilty as I thought he was, immediately wiped the snow from his lips and bent down, scraping together a ball of mushy white and packing it tightly.

"I'll see you at lunch, okay, Minami?" I began walking away as I spoke, dodging another snowball that was meant for the young teen. "Once people start throwing white stuff, I go inside." I pointed to my glasses for emphasis.

He just nodded, his eyes on Michele's retreating figure.

Throughout the morning, there was the usual chatter about the snow; plans for snowball fights were made, or people talked excitedly about building more snow forts after classes had ended, or during lunch break. I kept my mouth shut. I rather liked having dry clothes and socks, thank you very much.

Walking with Yuuko after Math, I kept on the alert; frigid cold balls of white were flying every which way. It had been the same for a week now, and I was starting to get used to it. Students were letting off steam between class. The teachers didn't seem to mind as long as they kept it strictly outside of the buildings. I kept my duffel bag in my hands, ready to use it as a shield if necessary. Yuuko thought I was hilarious, but something in my pained expression kept her from lobbing a snowball at me herself.

That didn't stop her husband, Takeshi, from throwing one. It made contact with my bag with a loud _splat_ ; snow splashed across my gloved hands and got on my glasses. I vowed revenge before the end of the day.

Minami caught up to us as we walked in the doors, ice melting in his red bangs. Sweeping them off his forehead, he giggled at the look on Michele's face, who showed up a moment later looking rather grumpy. Sala didn't even have a hair out of place. Lucky girl.

Minami and Takeshi were talking animatedly about the snow fight as we got in line to buy food. I glanced toward the round white table in the back corner out of habit. I froze; there were _five_ people at the table today.

Yuuko tapped me on the arm.

"Yuuri? What do you want to eat?"

I looked down at my feet; my ears were burning. I had no reason to feel self-conscious, I reminded myself. I hadn't done anything wrong.

"What's with Yuuri?" Takeshi asked Yuuko.

"N-nothing," I answered. "I'll just get a soda and a muffin today." I caught up to the end of the line.

"Don't you need something more than that? You have dance after lunch, right?" Yuuko asked, tossing me a concerned look over her shoulder.

"Actually, I feel a little sick," I said, eyes still on the floor.

I waited for them to get their food, taking Sala's offered muffin, and followed them to a table, eyes still on my feet.

I sipped my soda slowly, stomach churning with nerves. Twice Minami asked, with unnecessary concern, how I was feeling. I told him it was nothing, that I would be fine, but I was wondering if I should play it up and escape to the nurse's office for the next hour.

No, that was ridiculous. I shouldn't run away from this.

I swallowed down my mounting anxiety, permitting myself one look at the Nikiforov's table. If Victor was glaring at me, I would skip Classical Dance, like the coward I was.

Under the pretext of smoothing the hair back from my eyes, I glanced surreptitiously at their table. None of them were looking this way. I put my hand down and lifted my head a little so I could see them better.

The boys were laughing. Victor, Yuri, and Georgi's hair was entirely saturated with snow. Georgi was looking rather put out as he tried to straighten out his quiff. Mila, Anya, and Victor were all leaning away as Yuri shook his dripping hair toward them. They were enjoying another snowy day, just like everyone else - only they looked more like a scene from a movie than the rest of us.

Aside from the laughter and playfulness, there was something different, and I couldn't quite pinpoint what it was. I examined Victor the most carefully, a bit of muffin halfway to my mouth. His skin was a little less pale, I decided - flushed from the snow fight maybe - the circles under his eyes slightly less noticeable. There was something else, though. I pondered, staring, trying to pinpoint the change.

"Yuuri, what are you staring at?" Yuuko intruded, her eyes following my stare.

At that precise moment, Victor's eyes flashed over to meet mine.

I hastily swallowed the bit of muffin, dropping my head. I was certain, in the instant our eyes met, that he didn't look harsh or unfriendly as he had the last time I'd seen him. He looked merely curious again, unsatisfied in some way.

"Master Nikiforov is staring at you," Yuuko whispered in my ear.

"He doesn't look angry, does he?" I couldn't help but ask.

"No," she said, confused by the question. "Should he be? Did you not point your toes enough last lesson?"

I snorted softly, taking another bite of my rapidly dwindling muffin. If only that were the extent of my imagined crime.

"No, I just don't think he likes me," I confided. I still felt a bit queasy. I took another slow sip of my soda.

"The Nikiforov's don't really like anyone, or play favorites. Well, they don't pay much notice to anyone to really like them. He's still staring at you, though."

"Stop looking at him!" I whispered frantically. 

She smiled and shook her head, but finally looked away. I looked away from my soda long enough to make sure she had, contemplating bolting from the cafeteria if she resisted.

Takeshi interrupted us then - he was planning an epic battle of the blizzard in the parking lot after lessons were over and wanted to know if we were going to join in. Yuuko agreed enthusiastically. The way she looked at Takeshi left little doubt that she would be up for anything he suggested. I kept silent. I would have to hide in the Physics room until the parking lot cleared.

For the rest of the lunch hour, I very carefully kept my eyes at my own table. I decided to honor the bargain I'd made with myself. Since he didn't look angry, I would go to his class. My stomach did frightened little flips at the thought of doing leaps and plies in front of him. 

I didn't really want to walk to class with Ketty as usual - she had been absent today anyway - but when we went to the door, everyone besides me groaned in unison. It had begun to rain, washing away the piles of snow in clear, icy ribbons down the walkway between corridors. I pulled my hood up, secretly pleased. I would be free to go straight home after Physics.

Takeshi kept up a string of complaints on the way to his _Pas de Deux_ class with Yuuko.

One inside the dance studio, I saw with relief that Victor had yet to arrive. Class didn't start for a few minutes, and the students that began to arrive hung up their coats and went off to change into their dance wear. I followed suit, relieved that for the next few minutes, the room would be blissfully Victor-free.

When I arrived back in the studio after changing, Victor still hadn't shown up. Shrugging, I slipped into a free space on the wooden floor and began my pre-workout stretches. I only had Classical Dance four out of seven days a week, but already a change began to occur in my body. It would be another month yet before my muscles returned to their original state, but I was showing definite progress. The _katsudon_ from a few nights ago had been an indulgence; I refrained from eating any more than I had to to keep fit and healthy, determined to get my weight back to what it was when I attended university in Detroit.

My left foot nearly brushed my ear when I heard a rustling behind me.

"Hello, Mister Katsuki," a lilting, Russian accented voice murmured.

_Victor Nikiforov._

He had to catch my leg in his hand before I smacked him in the face with it out of surprise. A frisson of heat slid up my spine at the contact. Chuckling, he gently set me back on my feet, coming to face me. His silver hair caught the weak light filtering through the curtained windows, setting the mirrors alight like the soft twinkling of stars. I heard a few titters from girls off to my right, but I ignored them in favor of staring at the man in front of me, unable to believe he was actually addressing me.

"M-Master Nikiforov! You startled me.." I stammered, unable to keep the flush of embarrassment from staining my cheeks. My mind was spinning in confusion. Had I made up the whole thing? He was being perfectly polite now, smiling serenely at me, glacier blue eyes twinkling.

"My apologies," he laughed softly, and I noticed the way his mouth made a sort of heart shape when he smiled. The sound of his laughter was _enchanting_. "Here, may I help you?" he asked, smiling that heart-shaped smile. Baffled, I looked around the room. Most everyone was still in the pre-work out stretching phase. A few had already taken to the _barre_ to limber up. "With your stretching," he clarified, motioning for me to continue where I left off.

Swallowing thickly, I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. After I took my previous position, Master Nikiforov circled around, observing my posture and making minute corrections aloud; it's as though he didn't dare touch me again. I followed his instructions to the best of my ability, but he still seemed unsatisfied somehow, gazing thoughtfully at me, finger resting against his lips. 

It was then that I finally noticed what the change in him was.

"Did you get contacts?" I blurted out, not thinking.

He blinked, bringing his hand away from his face, looking away quickly.

"No, I don't need them," he said mildly, though he avoided my gaze directly.

"Oh," I mumbled, "I thought there was something different about your eyes."

In fact, I was _sure_ there was something different. I vividly remembered the flat grey color of his eyes the last time he'd glared at me - the color was striking against the background of his pale skin and his silver hair. Today, his eyes were a completely different color: a lovely, brilliant blue that reminded me of the ocean, the cresting waves tipped with chips of sparkling ice that threw a kaleidoscope of colors into the light. I didn't understand how that could be, unless he was lying for some reason about the contacts. Or maybe St. Petersburg was throwing me off my game more than I thought.

I was spared further embarrassment as the bell rang for the start of the lesson. Startled from my position, I hurried over to the _barre_ where the other students already stood waiting. Master Nikiforov clapped his hands together, smiling as though nothing awkward had happened.

"All right, class! Time to show me what you've got today. Ms. Okukawa has filled me in on everything I missed, so let's pick back up where she left off, shall we?"

The lesson seemed to pass slowly. I thanked whatever god existed that I had chosen to take Classical Dance instead of _pas de deux_. I shuddered to think what would happen if Victor Nikiforov had chosen me as a volunteer for pair dancing to show the rest of the class how it was done. That was one stressful thought too many. 

At the sound of the klaxon echoing down the corridors of the ancient building, I sagged with relief, out of breath from the strenuous work out I had just received. 

"That's all for today, class! I'll see you all again tomorrow," Master Nikiforov's too cheerful voice rang out against the pattering of ballet slippers against the wood floor as thirty young adults began to either stretch or exit the room to change out of their gear and back into casual clothes. Before I could so much as sigh, his voice rang out again, lilting and cheerful as before. "Oh, Yuuri? May I speak with you for a moment before you leave?"

Resigning myself to a lecture, I nodded, ballet flats clapping against the wooden floor as I approached my teacher, who lead me over to a secluded corner of the room to have some semblance of privacy.

"Y-yes, Master Nikiforov?" I couldn't stop the swooping feeling in my gut at the way his lips curled into that heart-shape I was starting to grow almost fond of.

"I'm terribly sorry for the way I treated you on your first day," he began, and he sounded so sincere, I believed him immediately. "I was under a bit of stress, and I let it bleed through into my attitude towards others. For this, I ask your forgiveness."

His lips turned downwards into a pout, and I had to strain my eyes to see him clearly. 

"I-it's fine, Master Nikiforov. I didn't take it personally." I was lying through my teeth, but I didn't let it show on my face.

He seemed doubtful at my response, waving to the students who tossed goodbyes over their shoulders as they left the room, never taking his eyes off me. With a jolt, I realized I only had a few minutes left before the warning bell would ring.

"Well, all right. Did you know that you have the same first name as my little brother?" The sudden question caught me off guard.

"Um, yes. I have Physics with him after this." No sense in keeping that secret. He probably already knew, anyway.

"Oh? Well, I hope he hasn't been rude to you." He asked, smirking playfully and showing off his perfect, even white teeth.

"Not really," I murmured, eager now to get away. My post-work out stretch would have to wait. I was going to regret it later.

"Good, good! Now, run along. I don't want you to be late." He motioned toward the changing room, which was, by now, empty.

Nodding, I sprinted across the studio, careful to run only on the balls of my feet. Aware of Victor's eyes on my back, I swept into the changing room, changing in a rush. I nearly forgot my glasses. After changing, I shoved them on my face, grabbed my duffel bag, and took off for the exit.

Victor Nikiforov was still in the room. He was standing on one leg, the other extended behind him; one hand reached out imploringly in front of him, the other extended behind him for balance. He looked wonderous in the early afternoon light filtering through the white curtains on the far side of the room. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was keeping to the shadows on purpose, standing at the very edge of the bars of weak grey light streaking across the wood floor, the rain running in tiny rivulets across the glass. Come to think of it, he'd done that in our previous lesson, too.

It was like a game to him. _Never step in the bars of light, or you're out._ Or something like that.

With a jolt, I realized I was staring. I heard approaching footsteps from outside of the room. Other students were arriving. Apparently, he heard them, too, because he suddenly dropped his position to stand on both feet, hands coming to rest at his sides. 

"I look forward to seeing you in my next lesson, Yuuri," he said cheerfully, tossing a playful wink my way as other students began filing in the room around me. 

Stammering incoherently, I quickly bowed at the waist and booked it, dodging around students as the warning bell sounded through the halls. _Shit!_ I was going to be furious if Victor Nikiforov made me late for my last class.

I arrived, barely on time and panting loudly, dashing through the door just as the klaxon echoed once more through the corridors. Mister Oda chuckled, waving me to my seat as he stood to close the door behind me. Still panting like a dog, I nodded sheepishly, going to flop gratefully in my seat a moment later.

It was only after Mister Oda had taken attendance and began his lecture on the next lesson - formulas for inertia and how it related to dance - that I noticed the seat beside me was occupied. Knowing I would probably just get glared at again, I ignored my neighbor, reaching into my duffel for my notebook and a pencil instead.

Midway through the lecture, Mister Oda encouraged us to partner up with the person sitting next to us to work out the few scenarios we had been given. We were to use what he had just talked about, applying the formulas to a dance routine we were to make up on the spot. It shouldn't be difficult - unless your partner had it in for you like mine seemed to.

"Hey, piggy," came an irritated voice to my left.

Blinking back my confusion, I whipped around to stare at the boy sitting next to me. Clear, crystalline green eyes stared back at me, annoyance swirling in their depths.

"Uh, yes?" I was kind of offended, but really, I just didn't want to get yelled at. He seemed like the type.

"I hope you understand his crap, because I _won't_ be explaining it to you."

His voice had the same lilting tone that Victor's had; it was pleasant enough to listen to, the Russian accent just as pronounced, even though he spoke in English.

"I understand it just fine," I replied, relieved he didn't seem angry. He still didn't smile at me, not that I expected him to, but it was better than the roiling waves of anger he'd emitted on my first day. "Do you have any ideas on how to apply this to a dance routine?" I asked, trying to be diplomatic.

He snorted, rolled his eyes, and dug out a paper and pencil from a bag at his feet. I hadn't noticed it before; I'd been too focused on surviving his unnecessary wrath. 

His hand began to move, a sketch flowing from the pencil tip like water pouring into a cup. A man's figure began to appear, scratching formulas neatly beside it. Before long, he had filled the sheet of paper, front and back, with his elegant sketches; the same, short haired man starred in the routine. Finished, he shoved the sheet my way, expression smug. It took him all of ten minutes.

"So, how's that? Bet it's better than what _you_ could come up with."

It certainly was quite the routine. It was filled with spins, leaps, and turns, all of a high difficulty not even I could hope to perform. 

"It's.. wow. This is really good, Yuri!" He preened at my praise. Emboldened, I returned the sheet of paper to him, digging out my own and beginning to sketch. The figures of two people, a man and a woman, flowed from my pencil, the man dancing around the woman for several turns and spins before he cast her away. Frowning, I paused, chewing the end of my pencil. I had the beginning in mind, but not the end. 

_Should the man cast the woman aside, like so many before her, or should she be the one to play with his affections?_ I wondered, scratching out a few formulas, toying with a few ideas while the rest of the class worked on around us. 

From the corner of my eye, I saw Minami from the other side of the room. He was wearing a frustrated expression, erasing furiously. 

_What if, instead of the man casting the woman aside, she was the one who came out of the dance stronger, casting the man aside for using her?_

Changing my mind at the last minute, I scribbled out a few more poses to the routine before the bell rang. Before I could offer the sheet of paper to Yuri, he snatched it from my hands and held it close to his face, examining it with a critical eye. Something flashed in his eyes and he shoved it back at me, lip curling in a silent snarl.

"Figures you would draw _him_ of all people. _Gross_ ," he made a gagging noise as Mister Oda went around the room collecting the assignment. Not sure what he was on about, I bent to hastily scribble my name in the corner when I saw it.

I had changed the female to a male, but that wasn't what brought an embarrassed dusting of pink to my ears. In a fit of inspiration, I had sketched out a rough outline of what was unmistakably Victor Nikiforov, leading the other male in a passionate dance across the page.

_Oops._ Well, now Yuri Plisetsky had a reason to be angry with me. I'd just drawn his brother dancing with another man, who I refused to believe could be me. I'd erased the feminine curves, replacing them with more of a muscular build. They weren't terribly detailed sketches like Yuri's, but I still took pride in my artistic ability. It was one of the very few things I was proud of.

Mister Oda reached our table then. We wordlessly handed over our assignments. He briefly glanced at Yuri's, nodding appreciatively, not surprised by the fluid sketches. When he took a look over mine, however, he paused, crinkled brown eyes blown wide with surprise.

"Yuuri, have you done this assignment before?"

If he hadn't been looking right at me, I would have assumed he was talking to the other Yuri. That boy needed a nickname, and fast.

"Um, yessir," I muttered, shrinking in my seat just a little.

"With a different application to the formulas?" I nodded sheepishly. "Were you in an advanced class at your previous university?"

"Yes." I squirmed, a little uncomfortable to have the spotlight on me, so to speak. I didn't dare turn to look at Yuri.

"Well," he said after a moment, smiling kindly. "I guess it's good you two are lab partners." He mumbled something else as he walked back to his desk. After he left, I heard a loud snort from beside me, then a rapid, short string of lilting Russian.

There were still a few minutes left of class before the bell rang, but it seemed like Mister Oda was done with teaching for today. The students chatted softly amongst themselves, or gathered their things to leave.

I had just started to pack my duffel bag when Yuri's low voice reached my ears.

"I hope you're not going to pine over Victor like some lovesick puppy."

My head snapped up, missing the black table top by centimeters as I turned to face the grumpy blond sitting next to me, still at the very edge of his seat and leaning as far away from me as possible.

"I'm not _pining_.. He teaches the class before this, is all," I objected, though it sounded weak to my ears. "He's very.. graceful when he dances. It just popped into my head."

He gave me a very calculating look before snorting and hoisting his bag over one shoulder.

"Whatever, just don't let me catch you making eyes at him again," he muttered, clearly irritated.

"I'm not _making eyes_!" I spluttered quietly, consciously aware of the other students still chatting around us.

After a moment of awkward silence, Yuri stared out of the nearest window. The rain was still coming down in sheets, making it impossible to see any light through the white curtains. The heavy grey clouds making their way across the sky reminded me of Victor's eyes on that first day. 

Speaking of eyes, Yuri Plisetsky was staring at me again.

"Why did you come here?" he asked out of the blue. No irritation colored his voice; he seemed mildly curious if anything.

"It's.. complicated." I didn't feel like telling a boy I didn't know, whose emotions seemed to be all over the place, about my life story.

"What's so complicated about it? Didn't you transfer here from somewhere else?"

Maybe he heard it from Victor. Either way, he wasn't wrong.

"From Detroit, yeah."

"Why?" he pressed, almost eager to know the answer.

A curious feeling passed over me then. I felt.. _calm_ , like I wanted to answer him. I blinked slowly, soaking in the sudden feeling of warmth.

"I came to live with my father. I had already taken a year off due to.. a family member passing. I thought I needed to finish my education, and what better place to do that than at one of the best ballet academies in the world?" It was so easy now to just.. blurt out my troubles. 

"Oh," he said, clenching a fist around his bag strap. "Sorry to hear that." He sounded genuine, but I was still basking in the warm feeling. "Why didn't you stay with your mother or something?"

"I just needed.. some time away. My sister said it woud be good for me, and mom agreed." I sighed, relaxing bit by bit. The feeling spread from my chest down to the tips of my toes, which curled happily in my boots.

"Your mother sent you here?" he asked, surprised. I shook my head in response.

"No, I.. sent myself."

Yuri Plisetsky frowned, tipping his head to regard me with narrowed eyes.

"I don't understand," he admitted, and the warm feeling grew. He continued to stare at me, some unnamed emotion dancing in his eyes. 

How to explain this to a boy who, only a short while ago, had chastised me for drawing his brother dancing?

"I wanted to.." I paused, swallowing down the final bits of my anxiety. "I wanted to spread my wings to see how far I could go. I was tired of failure."

"So, you're not happy." It wasn't a question. 

The feeling was starting to fade; I clung to it stubbornly, not wanting to let go just yet.

"I don't know," I said truthfully, struggling to retain a spark of that fading warmth.

"You put on a good show, then," he said slowly, raising a thin blond brow. "I think you should consider what being here will mean for you."

I frowned, shaking my head slowly. The klaxon rang then, signaling the end of the lesson. I jumped, startled as the other Yuri stood, more slowly than I'd ever seen him do. The warm feeling dissipated and I was left with a lingering sense of loss. I stood slowly as he quickly sidled passed my chair.

Before I could ask him what he'd meant, he darted out the door, the first person to leave as always.

Minami skipped to my side, picking up the duffel bag I hadn't realized I had dropped. I imagined him with a wagging tale and almost smiled.

"That was so _hard_!" he exclaimed as we trooped out with the rest of the students. "I had so much trouble with the formulas. You're pretty lucky you had Plisetsky for a partner."

"I didn't have trouble with it," I frowned, staring off after the end of Yuri Plisetsky's coat tails as they disappeared around the next corner. "I've done that assignment before, though," I added before Minami could get his feelings hurt.

"He seemed friendly enough today. He wasn't glaring at anyone, at least," he commented as we tugged on our gloves. It may be raining now, but it was still freezing. He sounded curious more than anything.

"I wonder what was with him last Monday," I murmured just loud enough for him to hear me over the pattering rain. 

Minami shrugged, chattering happily on our way to the parking lot. He waved goodbye as I trudged through the mist to my car. He still had another class before the day was over. So did most students, now that I had formed a sort of routine. I was one of the few who went home in the afternoon.

The rain had just about let up as I gratefully sank into the dry cab of my car. I got the heater going, for once not caring about the mind numbing roar of the engine. I took off my gloves, stuffing them in my coat pocket and pulled my hat and scarf off so I could fluff up my hair to let the heat dry it on my way home.

I looked around me to make sure it was clear. That's when I noticed the still, white figures. Victor Nikiforov was leaning against the front door of the Audi, three cars down from me, and seemed to be listening intently as Yuri Plisestky talked. He nodded along to his brother's animated gestures, lips curling into that heart-shaped smile. I only realized I was staring when he suddenly looked up, glancing my way. His smile grew wide, tossing a friendly wave my way while Yuri Plisetsky scowled, folding his arms across his chest and turning away with a huff.

Swiftly tearing my gaze away with a startled cry, I threw my car into reverse, almost hitting a Kia Sorento in my haste. I managed to stomp on the brake just in time. It was just the sort of car mine would make scrap metal out of. I took a deep breath, still looking out the other side of my car, and cautiously pulled out again. This time, I was successful.

I kept my eyes straight ahead as I passed the Audi, but from a peripheral peek, I would swear I saw Yuri laughing, while Victor heaved a huge sigh of relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That boy has got it bad...
> 
> barre -a horizontal bar at waist level on which ballet dancers rest a hand for support during exercises  
> pas de deux - an intricate relationship; a dance for two; pair dancing class  
> katsudon - pork. cutlet. bowl. (duh)  
> itadakimasu - basically "thanks for the food"
> 
> Notes:
> 
> In this verse, the vampires retain their original eye color they had as humans. As their thirst for blood grows, their eyes grow dull and grey, until eventually, they turn clear as glass. It's less noticeable for someone with blue or green eyes, like Victor and Yuri, but if someone like Anya or Georgi were to get too thirsty.. watch out!
> 
> I had a Physics teacher in my Junior year of high school for Homeroom. There was never time to learn much but he was pretty cool. The few things I do remember are scarce, so I'll be looking things up when I have the time/internet. I just needed an assignment for the Yuris to pseudo-bond over and have a Moment, so I made one up. My excuse is that I once saw an episode of CSI where the killer had carved a formula for inertia into the ice where the (female) skater he admired was practicing. This was years ago, mind you, but I thought it could be applied to dance as well. Please excuse any inaccuracies that may occur as a result.
> 
> Yuri is still smol and angery (just the way we like him) but I figure either of Victor's parents (or Victor himself, before he left for the week to go who knows where) must have said something to him about being, if not nice, then civil to Yuuri. Maybe Mila nagged him (and likely bench pressed him over her shoulder) if he didn't do it. 
> 
> As far as Yuri's powers go, they are much the same as Jasper's from the book, though he is able to keep them in check despite his young appearance. He uses them at will whenever he wants, rather than letting them loose on his fellow students. Not that he isn't tempted, but he would be in massive amounts of trouble with Victor if he used them to make everyone sleepy during class. He only used them on Yuuri to get information out of him. Aside from being genuinely curious about Yuuri, he wanted to know why 'some foreign fatso made Victor freak out at first smell'. (He is very protective of Victor and doesn't want him falling for just _anyone_.)
> 
> Victor has already started to become attached to Yuuri. Pray for him.
> 
> I hear Yuri Plisetsky's (dub) voice in my head every time I type out his dialogue. It helps keep him in character.


	4. Sudden Impact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor saves Yuuri from a rather unfortunate van, and Yuuri sees something he almost wished he hadn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not very happy with this chapter, tbh. Some of the sentence structure bugs me, but I tried fixing it to the best of my ability. I still hope it reads well enough and that everyone is still in character. No Yuri this chapter, sorry!

When I opened my eyes in the morning, something was different. I saw light. It was still the flimsy grey light I associated with a nearly overcast sky, but it seemed clearer somehow. 

Rolling out of bed and patting the night stand for my glasses, I stuck them on my face, going to look out the window, only to sigh heavily.

It had evidently rained during the early morning hours. A thin film of ice saturated the roads, giving everything an unnatural glassy sheen. Little snow remained, and what did, was thin and compact, sticking to every available surface like glue. That was honestly the worst part about it. The drive way was now a deadly ice slick; I didn't fancy having to navigate it. Frost coated the leaves in the trees across the square in gorgeous, tessellated patterns.

I had enough trouble wading through the thick drifts of snow that coated the walk ways at the academy on any given day; it might be less of a hassle to just go back to bed.

Toshiya had left for work before I came out of my room. In a lot of ways, living with him was like having my own place; it reminded me of the many quiet nights I spent lying awake in my dorm back in Detroit. I found myself enjoying the solitude instead of letting loneliness consume me.

Deciding that I may as well brave the icy tundra that was my new home for the year, I threw down a quick breakfast of miso soup and green tea. I was almost excited to go to class today, and that never happened. I knew it had nothing to do with the stimulating learning environment, or seeing my new set of friends. If I was being honest with myself, I knew I was eager to get to school because I would see Victor Nikiforov. How very stupid of me.

I should be avoiding him as much as I possibly could after my brainless and embarrassing babble yesterday. I was rather suspicious of him, too. Was he really lying about his eyes? I was still frightened of the hostility I sometimes felt from his younger brother, which he so aptly reminded me that we shared the same name. I was well aware that Victor Nikiforov was so out of my league, it was depressing to think of him too much. I shouldn't be at all anxious to see him today, and yet here I was, dreading our inevitable encounter later this afternoon.

Navigating the icy walkway wasn't as bad as I had thought. Being an ice skater had its advantages, even if I hadn't set blade to ice since before I moved here. It was almost comforting in a way; I still missed the feel of gliding across the rink with my eyes shut, oblivious to the world and everything around me. That would have to be fixed sooner or later. Keeping my balance wasn't terribly difficult, and I made it to my car without any hiccups.

On the way to the academy, I distracted myself with perusing the local radio stations. Anything to take my mind off Victor Nikiforov and his stupid, pretty heart-shaped mouth. There was a distinct difference in how boys responded to me here versus in Detroit, or back home in Hasetsu. The difference in personalities alone where Minami Kenjirou and Yuri Plisetsky was concerned was seriously laughable. I was sure I looked the same as I had back in Detroit - at least until I took a gap year and accumulated a few extra pounds. Perhaps the kids back home had watched me grow from a chubby boy into a slightly chubby man, and still thought of me that way, despite my short, failing skating career in between.

I was seen as a novelty here; the anxious, chubby Japanese boy who didn't know what self-confidence was, who was too focused on what was right in front of his face, or not focused at all. That might have been seen as endearing rather than pathetic, casting me as a timid creature in need of constant reassurance. Whatever the reason, Minami's puppy-like behavior and Yuri's confusing hostility was disconcerting at best. I wasn't sure if I didn't prefer being ignored.

My car seemed to have no problem with the slick black ice that covered the roads. I still drove very slowly, not wanting to carve a path of destruction on my way to the academy.

When I finally arrived and got out of my car, I saw why I'd had so little trouble. Something silver caught my eye just as I shut the cab door, and I walked around the back to investigate the source. There were thin chains crisscrossed in diamond shapes around them. Toshiya had gotten up seriously early to put snow chains on my car. My father's concern for my safety was touching, and I allowed a smile to quirk at the corners of my lips. I would need to thank him when I got back home.

As I turned to begin my troop over the slicked up walkway to my first class, I heard an odd sound. It was a high-pitched screech, and it was quickly becoming painfully loud. I looked up, startled.

I saw several things happen at once. Nothing moved in slow motion, like it did in the movies. Instead, the adrenaline rush seemed to make my brain work much faster, so that I was able to absorb and recall with clarity everything that happened next.

Victor Nikiforov was midstride, heading down the slippery walkway four cars away with unnatural ease; his face was frozen in a mask of shock and horror. His face stood out to me from all the others, that distinctive hair catching the weak light filtering through the overcast sky. Of more immediate importance was the dark blue van that was skidding, tires locked and the brakes emitting an awful squealing noise, spinning wildly across the ice-filled parking lot. It was going to hit the back corner of my car, and I was standing right in its path. I didn't even have time to close my eyes and pray.

Just before I heard the shuddering crunch of the van folding around the back bumper, something hard hit me, but not from the direction I'd been expecting. I went down painfully, head cracking against the frozen blacktop, feeling something solid and cold pinning me to the ground. I must have blacked out for a second, because when I opened my eyes, I was lying on the pavement beside the tan car I'd parked next to. I didn't have a chance to notice anything else; unfortunately, the van was still coming my way. It had curled gratingly around the end of the car and, still spinning and sliding, was about to collide with me _again_.

A muttered oath made me aware that someone was with me, the lilting accent impossible not to recognize. Two long white hands shot out protectively in front of me, and the van shuddered to a stop a foot or so from my face. The slim hands fit perfectly into the deep dents in the side of the van.

Then the hands moved so fast, they were nothing but a pale blur. One was suddenly gripping under the body of the van, and something was dragging me, swinging my legs around like a rag doll's until they hit the tire of the tan car. A groaning metallic thud hurt my ears, and the van settled, glass popping, onto the asphalt - exactly where my legs had been a second ago.

The silence was deafening for one long second before the yelling began. In all the commotion, I could hear more than one person shouting my name, but none more clearly than Victor Nikiforov's low, frantic voice right in my ear.

"Yuuri? Are you all right?"

"I'm okay." My voice sounded strange. I tried to sit up, only to realize he was holding me against the side of his body in an iron grip.

"Be careful," he murmured as I struggled to keep the blush from staining my cheeks. "I think you hit your head pretty hard."

A throbbing ache made itself known around my left temple. Reaching up to gingerly examine the area, I realized my glasses had fallen off somewhere. If I had to guess, they were nothing but a chunk of metal and glass under the front bumper of the blue van.

"Ouch," I groaned, surprised. 

"That's what I thought." He sounded slightly anxious, and I couldn't fathom why.

"How did you get over here so quickly?" I managed, trying to discern the many blurred shapes around me.

"Hm? I was standing right beside you, Yuuri." he said calmly, tone venturing into serious territory now that the danger had passed.

I tried to sit up, unsuccessful until Victor took me by the elbow, hoisting me gently to my knees. Releasing his hold, he slid quickly away, as far as the limited space would allow. Even being this close, I couldn't tell if he still looked anxious, or merely concerned. Staring briefly into the depths of his glacier blue eyes, I couldn't help but feel dazzled, even without the aid of my glasses.

What was I asking him, exactly?

At that moment, they finally found us, a crowd of people with tear-stained cheeks and identical looks of horror on their faces. They were all shouting at once, and I couldn't tell if it was at me, or someone else.

"Don't move," someone instructed.

"Get Minami out of the van!" someone else shouted.

There was a flurry of activity around us. I tried to stand, but Victor's cold hand gently pushed my shoulder back down. 

"Just stay put for now, all right?"

"But it's wet," I complained. He sighed, shaking his head, silver fringe dancing in the light breeze.

"You were over there," I murmured, and Victor froze. "Y-you were by that red car."

"No, I was right here." If I wasn't mistaken, his expression had just turned cold.

"But, I saw you." I frowned. All around us, chaos reigned. I could hear the gruffer voices of teachers and staff arriving on the scene, yelling out in rapid fire Russian. I knew I had been right, and he was going to admit it.

"Yuuri, I was standing right here with you, and I pulled you out of the way." He unleashed the full, devastating power of his eyes on me, as if trying to communicate something crucial.

"No, you weren't." I shook my head stubbornly, immediately wishing I hadn't.

"Please, Yuuri," he practically begged; the blue in his eyes blazed.

"Why?" I asked, squinting to better see his face.

"Trust me," he pleaded, his soft, lilting voice overwhelming in the confined space.

"Will you promise to explain everything later?" Now I was the one practically begging. I could hear sirens in the air now, getting closer with each passing second.

"All right," he sighed, admitting defeat for the moment.

"All right," I repeated, mollified.

It took six EMTs and and two teachers - Mister Karpisek and Mister Feltsman - to shift the van far enough away from us to bring the stretchers in. Victor vehemently refused his, and I tried to do the same, but the traitor told them I'd hit my head and probably had a concussion. I almost died of humiliation when they put on the neck brace. It looked like the entire school was there, watching soberly as they loaded me in the back of the ambulance. Victor got to ride in the front. It was frustrating.

As Victor got into the ambulance, I heard him talking with the EMT, asking after my condition. I tuned him out to consider the chaotic jumble of images churning in my head. When they'd lifted me away from the car, I'd caught a glimpse of the deep dent in the tan car's bumper. It very distinctly resembled the contours of Victor's broad shoulders, as if he had braced himself against the car with enough force to damage the metal frame.

Then there was his family, watching from a distance, expressions ranging from shock, disapproval, and in one case, fury; it was as if they were not the least bit concerned for their elder brother's safety.

I tried to think of a logical solution that might explain what I'd just seen; anything that excluded the possibility that I really had hit my head too hard. 

We finally arrived at the hospital after some minutes of swirving through morning traffic later. I vaguely wondered if someone had told Toshiya as they unloaded me. Victor simply glided through the hospital doors under his own volition. I sighed, knowing it was no use arguing at this point.

They put me in the emergency room, a long room with a line of beds separated by pale blue curtains. A nurse put a pressure cuff on my arm and a thermometer under my tongue. Since no one bothered pulling the curtain around me to give me some privacy, I decided that I was perfectly fine and had no need to wear the silly neck brace anymore. When the nurse walked away, I quickly unfastened the velcro and tossed it at the foot of my bed.

There was another flurry of activity, and more hospital personnel brought in another stretcher to the bed next to me. A familiar head of dirty blond hair poked out from numerous bloody bandages wrapped around his head. At first, I thought the stark streak of crimson across his forehead was more blood, but upon closer look, it fluttered in the streams of air the hospital personnel left behind as they tended to him.

Minami Kenjirou. He looked a hundred times worse than I felt, but despite all that, he was staring anxiously over at me with large, tear-filled russet eyes.

"Yuuri, I'm really sorry!"

"I'm fine, Minami. What about you? Are you all right?" I felt sick to my stomach. There my friend was, blood coating the bandages hastily wrapped around his head and one of his arms, and here I was, practically unhurt. It wasn't _fair_. 

As we spoke, nurses began unwinding his soiled bandages, exposing a myriad of shallow slices all over his forehead and the left side of his face. He couldn't shake his head, so he settled for a pained grimace.

"I thought I was going to kill you! I was going too fast, and I hit the ice wrong.." He winced as one nurse began to dab at his face.

"I'm fine, you missed me completely." It wasn't really a lie, but I felt slightly bad for saying it anyway.

"How did you get out of the way so fast? You were there, and then you were gone.." He trailed off, voice falling nearly to a whisper.

"Um, Victor pulled me out of the way in time."

"Who?" He looked confused. Well, I'd just addressed a teacher by his first name without permission. _Oops._

"Master Nikiforov. He was standing next to me when it happened." I had always been such an awful liar, and there was no way I sounded convincing enough.

"Master Nikiforov? I didn't see him.. wow, it happened too fast, I guess. Is he okay?"

"I think so. I saw him earlier, but they didn't make him use a stretcher."

I knew I wasn't just seeing things, but there was no way to explain away what I _had_ seen.

After that, they wheeled me away to x-ray my head. I told them there was nothing wrong with me, and I was right. I didn't even have a concussion as a souvenir. I asked a nurse if I could leave, but they said I had to talk to a doctor first. That meant I was trapped in the ER, Minami's constant apologies and reassurances that he would make it up to me filling the empty space between us. No matter how many times I tried to convince him I was fine, apologies continued to spill from his lips. I finally managed to calm him down enough to where I could close my eyes for awhile and just rest; his anguished sniffles blending in with the background noise of the hospital.

"Is he sleeping?" a lilting voice asked. The gentle Russian, which from anyone else sounded rough and felt like listening to sandpaper, flowed like music from his lips.

Victor Nikiforov was standing at the foot of my bed, gazing down at me with those crystalline blue eyes of his. I had to squint to be sure I saw concern swirling in their depths and not amusement. I frowned, though my heart wasn't in the gesture.

"Master Nikiforov, I'm so sorry--" Minami began.

Victor lifted a hand to cut him off.

"It's all right, Minami. You're not in any trouble, and no one blames you for what happened." His voice was still gentle, though he had switched over to English for our benefit.

Minami sighed, relieved. Victor was a teacher, and therefore an authority figure, so maybe that's how he managed to calm the teen down. Not being covered in blood probably helped his case.

"Have you been cleared for release yet?" he asked, turning back to me, moving to sit on the edge of Minami's bed to face me. He tried for a reassuring smile, but I'm not sure it reached his eyes, and his lips did not curl into that familiar, endearing heart-shape.

"Well, there's nothing wrong with me, but they won't let me leave until I speak to a doctor." My tone implied, in no uncertain terms, how annoyed I was. Now that Victor was a bit closer, I could see his face more clearly. He looked very relieved to hear the news, but at the same time, I couldn't help but feel like he already knew.

"Not to worry, Yuuri. I brought someone who can help you with that," he answered, lips finally curling into a semblance of a heart.

A doctor walked around the corner, followed closely by none other than my father, still in uniform and holding his hat in one hand. The doctor was still fairly young, though he bore a tinge of grey at the temples, platinum blond hair gleaming in the overhead lighting. He was definitely attractive, and I wouldn't have been at all surprised to find him in the pages of a fashion magazine. He looked tired, the circles under his eyes a little more prominent than Victor's, even at this distance, but he was just as pale. Judging from Toshiya's earlier description, this had to be Victor's father.

"Hello, Mister Katsuki. How are you feeling?" Doctor Nikiforov asked in English, his accented voice like warm honey and tea. It was remarkably comforting.

"I'm all right," I said, hopefully for the last time.

He walked to the light board on the wall over my head, turning it on with a quick press of a button. My father came to stand on my other side, looking pensive.

"Your X-rays look good," his tone was encouraging, and I took solace in that. "Does your head hurt? Victor said you hit it rather hard."

I shook my head slowly, trying not to squint so much.

"Not really." I'd hit my head on the ice rink once. Compared to that, the dull throb in my head now was nothing.

"May I?" Doctor Nikiforov asked, holding out his hands and motioning to my head. Exchanging a quick glance with my father, we both nodded.

His cool fingers probed lightly along my skull. He noticed when I winced, giving me a look full of sympathy.

"Tender?" he asked, taking his hands from my hair. 

"No, I've had worse." It was true.

I heard a sigh - of relief or resignation, I couldn't tell - from somewhere off to my left. Glancing in that direction, I saw Victor swipe the bangs from his eye. When he noticed I was staring, he gazed right back, eyes filled with an unnamed emotion. I really should ask about getting a spare pair of glasses. I stared right back, unblinking.

"Well, Mister Katsuki," when I looked up, he was addressing my father. "you may take your son home now, but if he complains at all about his eyesight, I'd like for him to come back."

My father nodded, murmuring his thanks.

"Can't I go to class today?" I asked, looking from the good doctor to my father and back again.

"Maybe you should take it easy today," Doctor Nikiforov suggested, hands finding their way into the pockets of his stark white coat. 

"Actually," Victor piped up, "in light of the recent circumstances, I've decided to cancel my classes for today."

"It also seems as though most of the school is in the waiting room," Doctor Nikiforov added, "so I think it may be pointless to go back."

"Oh, no," I moaned, covering my face with my hands. My father's hand came to rest comfortingly on my shoulder.

"Would you like to stay here instead?" Doctor Nikiforov asked, raising his eyebrows. 

I thought of Minami lying in the bed next to me. He hadn't said a word since Victor arrived, but I wasn't looking forward to more apologies today.

"No, no!" I insisted, throwing my legs over the side of the bed and hopping down quickly. A bit too quickly, unfortunately. I stumbled a little, and my father caught me. Doctor Nikiforov looked concerned.

"I'm all right," I assured him again, standing up straight. Toshiya got the hint and removed his hands.

"Take some Analgin for the pain," the doctor suggested kindly.

"It doesn't really hurt anymore," I lied, ignoring the dull throb in my skull.

"It sounds like you were extremely lucky," Doctor Nikiforov said, smiling as he signed my chart with a flourish.

"Only because Victor was standing next to me," I amended with a glance toward my ballet teacher.

"Oh, well, yes," Doctor Nikiforov agreed, suddenly occupied with the papers in front of him. Turning his back, he walked over to Minami next. I frowned, my intuition flickering; the doctor knew something I didn't.

"I'm afraid _you'll_ have to stay with us a little bit longer," he said to Minami, bending to examine the cuts to his forehead.

As soon as his back was turned, I glanced up at my father, who was holding something out to me. It was a pair of glasses, probably my old spares. Murmuring my thanks, I took them, cleaning the lenses off on the hem of my shirt before putting them on.

"Let's go home, Yuuri," Toshiya said, trying to steer me in the direction of the waiting room and the exit beyond.

"Um, hold on. I want to thank Vi-- Master Nikiforov for helping me." I'd nearly messed up again, almost blurting out his first name when I didn't have the right.

He looked apprehensive but nodded, polishing his own glasses with a cloth from his pants pocket. Tossing him a reassuring smile, I quickly approached Victor's side before he could leave.

"Can I talk with you for a minute?" I asked, keeping my voice low so Toshiya and the doctor couldn't hear me. He blinked, taking a step back, swallowing thickly.

"Your father is waiting for you, you should go home," he protested. Now that I had a pair of glasses again, I could see his face much more clearly. He wasn't smiling, and that was definitely worry behind his eyes.

I glanced at Doctor Nikiforov and Minami. Neither of them were paying us any attention.

"I'd like to talk to you alone, please?" I pressed, in the same tone I'd used right after he pulled me from the van's direct line of fire.

He frowned, silver eyebrows furrowing in thought before his expression softened. Turning on his heel, he strode down the long room; I had to hurry and catch up, or he would most likely leave me behind. As soon as we turned the corner into a short hallway, he turned to face me.

"What's on your mind, Yuuri?" he asked, sounding as though he wanted to be anywhere but here.

He wasn't acting hostile, but all the same, I hesitated before opening my mouth. I had to go about this carefully; this man was still my teacher, after all.

"I'd still like an explanation for what happened," I reminded him.

"I saved your life, Yuuri. Is that not good enough?" His voice remained gentle, but that didn't stop the frown marring my features.

"You promised," I added stubbornly.

"Yuuri, you hit your head pretty hard, I think you're confused." His tone was meant to placate, but my temper suddenly flared.

"There's _nothing_ wrong with my head!" I shouted. A split second of silence rang, heavy in the sterile white hall. I immediately regretted raising my voice, at my ballet instructor no less. He seemed shocked, glacier blue eyes widening for a brief moment before he shifted, scratching the back of his neck and looking.. not quite sheepish, but something close to it.

"What do you want from me, Yuuri?" He wasn't looking at me anymore, but his tone suggested he was still willing to talk.

"I just want to know the truth," I said, lowering my voice to a whisper. I already felt very guilty for yelling at him. "I want to know why I'm lying for you."

"What do you think happened?" he asked mildly, finally turning his shiny silver head to look my way again.

This was it, my chance to finally get some answers to the questions that had been at the forefront of my mind ever since he'd saved my life.

"I know that you weren't anywhere near me. Minami said he didn't see you either, so don't tell me I hit my head too hard. That van was going to crush us both, but it didn't. I saw the dents your hands and shoulders left, but you're not hurt at all. Not to mention, the van should have smashed my legs, but then you were holding it up.." I trailed off, hearing how wild it all sounded, and I couldn't bring myself to continue. I hung my head, waiting for the verdict.

I couldn't see his face from this angle, but I saw his fists clench at his sides.

"You think I.. lifted a van off you?" He sounded politely skeptical, which only made me more suspicious. It was like a perfectly delivered line by a skilled actor.

I nodded, too scared to look up and see the expression on his face.

"Nobody will believe that, you know." he said lightly, the hands at his sides slowly uncurling from their tight fists. Only then did I gather the courage needed to make eye contact with him again.

"I'm not going to tell anyone," I said slowly, confused. Why would I? He was right.

Surprise flitted across his face before it was wiped clean.

"Then why does it matter?" He sounded genuinely curious.

"It just.. it matters to me." I insisted. "I don't like to lie, so I need to know why I'm doing it."

"Couldn't you just thank me and leave it at that?"

"Thank you," I swallowed, standing my ground. I wasn't leaving until I got an answer out of him.

He sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"You're not going to let this go, are you?" he asked, smiling sadly.

"No." I _couldn't_ back down, not now.

"In that case.. I'm very sorry, Yuuri."

His tone was sincere, but I was still disappointed. Maybe I'd gone too far by raising my voice. We stared at each other in silence. I was the first to break it; I couldn't bear to leave things as they were, but there was something else that was bothering me.

"Why did you save me?" I asked, voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitated, eyes wide, exhaling a shuddering breath passed clenched teeth. He swallowed, adam's apple bobbing, before finally locking eyes with me.

"I couldn't bear to see you die," he murmured, so softly I almost didn't hear him.

An apology in hasty Russian dropped from his lips. Turning his back on me, he walked away without another word.

His parting words tumbled over and over in my brain, and for a few minutes, I just stood there, watching until he turned another corner and disappeared from sight. With a jolt, I realized Toshiya was still waiting for me, and I hurried back as quickly as I could without aggravating my pounding head further.

I apologized when I caught up with him in the waiting room. It was more unpleasant than I first thought. It seemed like everyone I knew from the academy was there, staring at me. Yuuko, Takeshi, and the Crispino twins were there. I spent a few minutes quietly reassuring each of them that yes, I was okay, and no, nothing was wrong with me.

Toshiya eventually called everyone to order, telling them I needed to get home and rest. It wasn't exactly a lie, either; I was exhausted, both mentally and physically. Bidding my friends goodbye, Toshiya slipped a gentle hand behind my back, guiding me to the glass doors of the exit. I hoped my friends wouldn't worry anymore now that the danger had long since faded. It was a huge relief - the first time I'd felt that way - to get into the passenger seat of the Priora.

The drive home was silent. I was so wrapped up in my thoughts, I barely registered my father's presence. I was positive that Victor's behavior in the hall was a confirmation of the bizarre things I could hardly believe I'd witnessed.

Toshiya finally spoke when we pulled up to the apartment building.

"You'll need to call your mother, Yuuri." His shoulders were slumped, sagging from his normally proper posture.

"You told her?" I groaned; really, I shouldn't have been so surprised.

"I'm sorry," Toshiya murmured, putting the car into park.

I sighed and shook my head, shutting the door of the Priora carefully as I got out.

My mother was surprisingly calm about all of it. I only had to tell her I was fine twice before she relented. She asked if I wanted to come home, but it was easier to refuse than I thought. It would have been nice, but I would still be haunted by the knowledge that Victor Nikiforov was not normal. Maybe I even had a bit of a crush on the man. I really hoped it was just idol worship, though. He _had_ saved my life, after all, though I wasn't as eager to escape St. Petersberg as I really should be.

I decided I might as well go to bed early that night, since I had no homework. Toshiya continued to watch me carefully, for which I was thankful. Talking with him about the incident - minus the weird things I'd seen my ballet instructor do - was a relief I didn't know I needed. I stopped on my way to grab two Analgin from the bathroom. They did help, and as the pain finally eased, I was able to drift off to sleep.

That was the first night that Victor Nikiforov appeared in my dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter name not to be confused with the movie of the same name.
> 
> Analgin - It's like Tylenol here in the states. For minor aches, pains, and fever.
> 
> Notes:
> 
> Fun fact: I toyed with the idea of Yuri pulling the van off Yuuri, but the conversation in the hospital would have been much the same as the one Bella has with Edward in the book, and that would have been rather boring.
> 
> Minami is now shouldering the burden of playing the roles of three characters. I could have used someone else, but then I still wouldn't have enough characters to go around, so some changes had to be made. I couldn't really see anyone else in that role, either. That being said, I may need to remove and change tags around, as the roles I have planned for the others won't allow them to show up until much later in the saga. Unfortunate, but I'm doing my best with the material I'm given.
> 
> I feel like Yuuri shouldn't refer to his father by name so much, but it's easier for me personally to write it that way. Typing out 'my father' would just get old very quickly, and I'm kinda hesitant to use the honorific system, as I'm not intimately familiar with it like I used to be.
> 
> Victor Nikiforov and his pretty heart-shaped mouth need to be Stopped immediately.


	5. What Do You Want From Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An invitation is issued, Victor needs to make up his mind, and Yuri is cryptic for seemingly no reason.
> 
> Yuuri, of course, is caught in the middle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Another update? So soon? Why Rae, that's positively impressive!" lol yeah ikr
> 
> I tried to write for another fic of mine for another fandom, but it wasn't happening, and the day was already halfway gone before I finally got around to writing, so I decided to chip away at this one again. 
> 
> Quite a bit is happening! Victor is all over the place, Yuuri keeps trying to battle his anxiety (with some amount of success), and Yuri keeps defying me at every turn, idk what to do with this child tbh..
> 
> Chapter title inspired by the song sung by Adam Lambert.

In my dream, it was very cold and dark, and what little light there was seemed to be radiating from Victor's skin and silver hair. I couldn't see his face, just his back as he glided away from me, the sound of his blades skimming the ice in front of me the only thing I could hear. No matter how fast I skated, I could not catch up to him; no matter how loudly I called his name, he never turned. He looked like he was flying, and I was left with a lingering sense of loss as he disappeared from sight.

I woke in the middle of the night, trying to make sense of what I had seen; I couldn't sleep again for what seemed like a very long time. After that, he was in my dreams every other night, always out of reach.

The month that followed the accident was uneasy, tense, and seriously embarrassing, at least at first.

To my dismay, I found myself the center of attention for the rest of the week. Minami was always underfoot, impossible to escape. I reassured him countless times that since nothing had actually happened to me, there was nothing to forgive. He kept bursting into tears and vowing that I was the coolest person in the world, insisting that he would make it up to me one day. He walked me to most of my classes and sat at our now-crowded lunch table on a regular basis. 

No one seemed too concerned about Victor, though I explained over and over that he was the hero of the story - how he had pulled me out of the way and nearly been crushed for it, too. I hoped I was convincing enough. Yuuko, Takeshi, and the Crispino twins commented that they hadn't even seen him there until the van had been pulled away.

I wondered why no one else had seen him standing so far away before he was suddenly, impossibly, saving my life. With a sigh, I realized the probable cause - no one else seemed to be as aware of Victor as I was. Aside from the girls in my ballet class, no one else watched him the way I did. _Gods, I'm pitiful._

Victor was never surrounded by crowds of curious bystanders eager for his firsthand account, save for after lessons had concluded. I skipped my post workout stretching just so I wouldn't have to be witness to that. Aside from the gaggle of girls, people avoided him as usual. He and his adopted siblings sat at the same table as always, hardly eating, talking only amongst themselves. Not one of them, especially Victor, glanced my way anymore.

When Yuri sat next to me in Physics, as far from me as the table would allow, he seemed totally put off by my presence. Nothing really unusual there, though. He would occasionally shoot an icy glare my way, but when I caught him, he would quickly look down at his text book or out the window, and I wondered if he was actually as angry as he seemed.

He probably wished Victor hadn't pulled me from the path of the van - there was no other reason I could think of.

I wanted to talk to Victor and sort of clear the air between us, and the day after the accident, I tried. The last time I'd seen him was outside of the ER, and he had seemed almost _haunted_ as he walked away, his last words to me ringing in my ears long after he'd disappeared from sight. I was still a little annoyed that he couldn't trust me with the truth, even though I was keeping my part of the bargain flawlessly. He _had_ saved my life, now matter _how_ he'd done it. Overnight, the simmering annoyance had melted into awed gratitude.

He had already begun class by the time I took my place at the _barre_ , quickly matching the position of my peers. He didn't even glance my way, showing no sign that he even realized I was there. 

The only acknowledgement he gave was a slight nod as he went down the line, expecting our posture one by one, correcting positions as needed. I was tempted to mess up, just so he would say my name, but I mastered the impulse. I wasn't _quite_ that desperate.

That was the last contact I had with him, even though he was right there in front of me, every day in class. Sometimes I watched him, unable to help myself. It was always at a distance, though - in the cafeteria, or in his class. I watched as his glacier blue eyes grew perceptibly lighter day by day, but in class, I gave no more notice that he existed than he showed toward me. There was no use in being miserable, so I eventually gave up. That's when the dreams finally stopped.

Despite the cheery e-mails I sent my mother, she still called a few times to ask after me and hear my voice. I tried to convince her it was all this snow and rain that had hampered my good mood.

Minami had eventually calmed down, but still retained his puppy-like tendencies. His injuries had healed well, and eventually, he was allowed back into the dance studio. He threw himself into his routines with renewed vigor, and I couldn't be more proud of him if I tried. (He started crying when I wished him good luck on one of his practical exams, giving him a friendly thump on the back before my next class. It took a full two minutes of crushing hugs before he eventually let go, stars in his tear-filled eyes.)

Despite Yuri's icy presence, he sat on the edge of our table in Physics, trying to engage the other boy in conversation multiple times. Yuri was having none of it. He didn't exactly bite Minami's head off, but the glares he shot the boy's way spoke volumes.

The ice and heavy snowfall faded away for good after that dangerously icy day. Takeshi was disappointed he'd never gotten to stage his snowball fight, but still seemed pleased about the upcoming beach trip, now that the weather had let up somewhat. The cold persisted, and the weeks passed without incident.

Yuuko made me aware of another event looming on the horizon. She called the first Tuesday of March to ask if I was going to the girl's choice spring dance in two weeks.

"Are you sure you don't want to go with us, Yuuri? There's no shame in going stag!" She wanted to invite me to hang out with her, Takeshi, and the Crispino twins. (Michele was taking Sala, and no one had the heart to object.)

"No, Yuuko. Thank you anyway, though." I was only comfortable dancing in class; social functions always made me nervous. Two years ago, back at my old university in Detroit, I'd had too much alcohol at a frat party and pole danced with a stranger. I hadn't touched the stuff since.

"Aw, but it'll be be fun!" she wheedled, trying to wear down my resolve.

"It's okay. You have fun with Takeshi and the others," I encouraged.

The next day, I was unsurprised to see Yuuko as her usual bubbly, friendly self. She and Minami kept up a string of chatter they walked by my side between classes. 

Takeshi's mood hadn't changed either; if anything, he was still his exuberant self, although I saw him exchange frequent fond looks with Yuuko over their lunch trays. Michele told them to get a room, Minami and Ketty giggled, and Sala and Yuuko rolled their eyes at each other. 

Walking to Classical Dance, I felt better than I had since the van incident. Everything had finally returned to normal.

During the pre-workout stretch, Ketty approached where I was sitting, the far corner of the studio where I had taken to isolating myself before lessons began.

"Hi, Yuuri," she greeted with a wave, sweeping her hair into a bun, tying it back with a rubber band. "Mind if I stretch with you today?"

"Sure." I smiled as she took a seat on the floor next to me and began to lace up her _pointe_ shoes. I had finally procured a pair of my own last month, shiny and new, and was still breaking them in a bit. My feet weren't thanking me for it, but that's the price you pay if you want to be a dancer, or even a figure skater.

"So," she began, midway through a butterfly, "are you going to the spring dance?"

Deciding I should probably nip this sort of thing in the bud before I got her hopes up, I racked my brains for an excuse.

"No, sorry," I tried to sound sincere, as though it really was a shame I wouldn't be going. "I'll be out of town that day. I need to look for a new pair of blades for my ice skates."

At that point, Victor walked in the door, pausing on the thresh hold before he entered, sweeping his gaze across the room as he usually did. 

"That's too bad," Ketty continued, standing to stretch her arms above her head, arching her back and standing nearly _en pointe_. "I was going to ask if you wanted to go with me."

I paused for a moment, hating the wave of guilt that washed over me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a swish of silver, and wondered if Victor had turned his head our way; I couldn't tell from this distance, as I always left my glasses in the changing room.

"Why not ask Minami?" I suggested, approaching the _barre_ as Victor clapped his hands, the signal that the lesson was about to begin.

"Hm, I suppose," Ketty hummed thoughtfully, taking the place to my right. "You think he'd want to go with me?"

"I don't see why he wouldn't," I murmured, falling silent as Victor's voice rang through the room.

"All right, everyone. Today, I want a nice demonstration from each of you about everything we've covered this month. Ms. Abelashvili, Mister Katsuki, why don't you start us off?"

Startled, I whipped my head around, staring at Victor as though he had just spoken in tongues. Swallowing thickly, I nodded, taking the appropriate dictated position. I couldn't believe the rush of emotion pulsing through me, just because he'd addressed me directly for the first time in a month. I couldn't allow him to have this level of influence over me; it was pathetic. More than pathetic, it was _unhealthy_.

I tried very hard to pay the minimum amount of attention to him that was socially acceptable for a student to pay his teacher. I'd succeeded before, there was no reason to think I could fail now. When the bell rang at last, I sighed, slumping from my position and rubbing my sore calves. As I thought, now that I was dancing regularly and maintaining a healthy diet, the weight had melted right off. I could still stand to lose another inch around my waist, but I was happy with the progress I'd made. (Sala had commented yesterday that she thought I looked more fit and trim than I had when I arrived. Michele had thrown me a dirty look, but that was expected.)

"Yuuri?" The sound of his voice should not have caused a sigh of relief to escape my lips, as if I'd been waiting for it this whole time.

I stood slowly, giving my muscles time to relax. Victor was standing some six feet away, a rather respectable distance he maintained with all his students. 

"Yes, Master Nikiforov?" I kept my tone light and inquiring, like I hadn't been thirsting for a chance to speak to him for a month, though the impulse had receded with time.

His lips spread into a semblance of a smile, though it did not reach his eyes, and the familiar heart shape was nowhere to be seen.

"I'm very sorry. I know I have been rude to you, but it's better this way." He sounded sincere. His smile slowly faded, leaving a serious line in its wake.

I blinked, unaware of Ketty waving to me as she left the room, already changed. Students were slowly filtering out of the room around us, until the door had shut and it was just the two of us in the dimly lit room.

"What do you mean?" I asked, voice guarded.

"It's better if we just.. remain as we are." he sighed, clasping his hands behind his back.

I nodded, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. What else could I say?

"I'm sorry, too. If you regret it, that is."

"Regret?" The word, and my tone, had caught him off guard, blue grey eyes widening slightly. "Regret for what, Yuuri?"

"Saving me from the van," I mumbled, unable to meet his eyes.

A short, hissing intake of breath made me look up, startled to find Victor had stepped closer without my realizing he had even moved.

"You think I _regret_ saving your life?" He was astonished, as though the very thought had caused him pain.

At this point, I was going to be late to Physics if I didn't go change; with a shrug, I turned my back on Victor, hurrying over to the changing room.

"I think you do," I muttered, dashing around the corner and into the safety of the next room.

I threw my casual clothes on as quickly as I could manage, pausing long enough to lace up my boots and shove my glasses on my face before grabbing my duffel bag, thrusting my _pointe_ shoes inside.

Victor was waiting for me at the door to his class as I emerged, panting and slinging my duffel over my shoulder. His expression was unreadable, but the warning bell reminded me that I needed to leave before things got too awkward. I slipped passed his pale figure, catching the edge of a shoelace that was still hanging from my bag on the doorknob. With a groan, I could only watch as it fell to the floor with a clatter. I sighed, bending to pick it up, only to have it appear at my right, clutched in Victor's pale hand.

"Thank you," I murmured, taking the offered shoe and shoving it deeper into my bag.

"You're welcome," he replied softly.

Before I could take another step, I felt a tug on the sleeve of my coat. Whipping around, I found Victor had snagged it, but quickly withdrew his hand before our skin could touch.

"I will _never_ regret saving you, Yuuri. Please believe that."

Unable to find a retort, I nodded stiffly, dashing off to Physics. 

I was barely late, uttering a hasty apology as Mister Oda shut the door behind me, the last echoes of the klaxon fading from the corridors. Flushed with embarrassment and out of breath, I took my seat next to Yuri Plisetsky, who sniffed in a disapproving way as I flopped into my chair.

"You should be more grateful, piggy," he murmured fifteen minutes later as Mister Oda was in full lecture at the front of the room. 

"I'm sorry?" I mumbled, too tired to care about the name calling. I was almost used to it by now.

"That my brother decided to save your life."

Oh, _that_. I sighed, shaking my head, note taking forgotten for the moment as I finally dared to make eye contact with him. Narrowed grey green eyes stared back. Rather than looking angry, he gave off a haughty aura, piercing me with his crystalline gaze, a corner of his mouth twitching.

"Do _you_ regret it?" The question came unbidden to my lips, but I could not stop it from escaping. I had to know if the rest of Victor's family shared his sentiments.

Yuri looked incredulous, almost affronted as his eyes narrowed further. I stared back, unwilling to concede. After a moment, his expression relaxed and the same strange feeling I'd felt before returned, this time taking the form of a pleasant chill not unlike a spring breeze rustling down my spine.

"If he hadn't, I would have."

The declaration caught me off guard. I continued to stare, sure he was messing with me somehow. 

"Yuri?" Mister Oda called, seeking the answer to a question I hadn't heard.

Both our heads whipped around to the front of the room. The cool sensation faded as soon as our eye contact had shifted. The class tittered; Mister Oda sighed, motioning to the blonde beside me.

"Yuri _Plisetsky_ ," he added, putting emphasis on the surname. This was not the first time we had both responded to his inquiries, nor did I feel it would be the last.

"Kinetic energy," Yuri answered confidently.

I stared down at my text book as soon as Mister Oda launched back into his lecture, trying to find my place. Cowardly as ever, I kept my eyes forward for the rest of the lesson, and was unsurprised to find Yuri had done the same.

With two minutes until the bell, the class began to pack their things away. I mimicked them, determined not to glance Yuri's way again. Something nagged at the back of my mind, and with a start, I realized I had left the conversation unfinished. Steeling my resolve, I turned back toward the blond, whose eyes were focused intently out of the nearby window, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Um," I mumbled, trying to get his attention. "Thank you. I appreciate the thought."

At that moment, the bell rang. Yuri stood slowly, staring down his nose at me, bag slung over one shoulder.

"Whatever, _fatso_."

With a huff, he was gone, sidling past my chair and out the door before I could even do more than feel slightly offended.

It was a relief, as always, to leave. I didn't see Minami on the way to my car, which was a bit strange. My car had suffered only minimal damage in the accident. I'd had to replace the tail lights, and if I'd had a real paint job, I would have touched that up. Since my spare pair of glasses were an old prescription, Toshiya had taken me to get new ones, which arrived the next day. Minami's parents had to sell their van for parts.

I almost jumped out of my skin when I rounded the corner and saw a short, blond figure leaning against the side of my truck. I saw the streak of red marring the fringe, and realized it was only Minami. I slowly approached, wondering what was up.

"Hi, Minami," I called.

"Hi, Yuuri!"

"What's up?" I asked as I was unlocking the door. I wasn't paying attention to the over excited edge to his voice, so his next words took me by surprise.

"Well, I was just wondering if you were going to the spring dance?" He smiled up at me, expectant.

"It's girl's choice, so no." I blurted out, too startled to be diplomatic.

"Oh, yeah," he admitted, bright smile fading.

"Thank you for asking, but I'll be out of town that day." I managed to recover my composure and smiled warmly down at the teen.

"Oh," he murmured, shifting uncomfortably in place. "Well, maybe next time?"

"Sure," I agreed, sincerely wishing that might be the case.

Minami's smile returned, slowly spreading across his face, one of his canines visible. He turned, waving as he jogged back to the academy building toward his next class.

Hearing derisive laughter, I turned. Yuri Plisetsky was walking past the front of my car, looking straight forward, his lips pressed together, though clearly fighting a smirk. Yanking the car door open, I hopped inside, accidentally slamming it loudly behind me. With a sigh, I tossed my duffel into the passenger seat and revved the engine, reversing carefully out into the aisle. Yuri had climbed into Victor's car already, two spaces down from mine. The silvery blue Audi slid smoothly out in front of me, cutting me off.

It stopped there, probably to wait for his family. I could see the three of them walking this way, but still near the cafeteria building. I considered trying to squeeze by the shiny Audi, but there wasn't much room to walk, let alone drive beside another car. I glanced in my rear view mirror, groaning softly as I realized a line was beginning to form. Directly behind me, the Crispino twins were idling in their used Sentra. I wasn't in the mood, avoiding Michele's annoyed gaze as much as I could.

While I sat there, looking anywhere but at the car in front of me, I heard a knock on my passenger side window. Turning, I realized it was only Sala, muffler pulled down over her face. I glanced back in my rear view mirror, confused. Michele was sitting in the driver's seat, staring fixedly at his sister, the passenger door of his car left open. I leaned across the cab to crank the window down, but it stuck halfway, so I gave up.

"I'm sorry, Sala, I'm stuck behind Master Nikiforov." I wasn't too annoyed, the hold up wasn't even my fault.

"Oh, I know. I wanted to ask you something while Michele is driving." She smiled, exposing even, white teeth.

_Oh no, this wasn't happening.._

"Will you go with me to the spring dance?" she continued, violet eyes sparkling.

Since I didn't want to die by Michele's hand anytime this century, I had to let her down easy.

"I'm sorry, Sala. I won't be in town that weekend." I tried not to wince at the glare Michele was now shooting me from my rear view mirror.

"Oh, I didn't mean--" her hands whipped up to cover her face, and she glanced guiltily back at her twin. "Just as friends, you know."

I nodded to save face. Michele was laying on the horn of his Sentra, clearly impatient. Sala huffed and rolled her eyes.

"Are you really going out of town that day?" she asked, looking slightly disappointed as I nodded. 

"Sorry," I apologized again, and I meant it. 

Sala was a nice, sweet girl, and I hated to reject her, but I rather liked having all my limbs attached to my body. Michele was known to be fiercely overprotective of Sala; there was a story going around that he'd ended up in the Dean's Office once for tossing a boy across the cafeteria floor for asking his sister out.

"That's okay," she chirped. "We still have prom."

Before I could do more than cast an astounded look her way, she was walking back to her car. I could feel the shock on my face. I looked forward to see Mila Babicheva and Anya and Georgi Popovich all sliding into the Audi. In his rear view mirror, Victor's eyes were on me. Through the back window, I could see Yuri shaking with unquestionable laughter, as if he'd heard every word Sala had said.

Frowning, I revved the engine once more, impatient and thoroughly embarrassed. Once they were all in, Victor finally sped off. I drove home carefully, trying to shrug off the encounter.

***

When I got home, I decided to make _pirozhki_ for dinner. It was a long process, so it would keep me busy. While I was baking the bread, the phone rang. I was almost afraid to answer it, but it might be Toshiya or my mom.

It was Ketty, and she was ecstatic; Minami had caught her after school to accept her invitation. I celebrated with her briefly while I stirred the filling. She had to go, she wanted to call her other friends to tell them. I suggested - with casual innocence - that maybe some of the boys our age should refrain from asking Sala. Ketty thought that was probably for the best, knowing Michele's reputation. She still sounded sorry that I wouldn't be going, but I told her it wasn't a big deal. I gave her my performance anxiety excuse.

After I hung up, I tried to concentrate on dinner, especially when dicing the meat. I didn't want another trip to the emergency room all because my focus slipped. Even so, my head was spinning, trying to analyze every word Victor and Yuri had spoken today. What did Victor mean by 'It's better if we just.. remain as we are'? 

I swallowed thickly as I realized what he meant. He must have caught me staring at him too often, at lunch or in class, and probably thought I was into him. Well, I _was_ at first, but.. why couldn't we even be friends? Was he not even interested in that much? 

_Obviously not_ , I thought dejectedly, blinking rapidly to dispel any tears - a delayed reaction to the onions. I wasn't _interesting_ enough, and he was. Interesting, brilliant, handsome.. and possibly able to lift full-sized vans with one hand.

I decided then and there that I would leave him alone. I would get through my self-imposed sentence in St. Petersberg, and then hopefully I could go back to Japan with my degree and get a job teaching ballet. There was a skating rink back home, why not add to it? I focused my thoughts on balmy afternoons and sakura trees as I finished the _pirozhki_ and put them in the oven to bake.

Toshiya seemed curious when he came home, sniffing the air appreciatively. Even if the foreign food had been inedible, my father was still a cop. He would eat anything you put in front of him. He seemed to like my take on the dish - adding _katsudon_ filling in place of the usual.

"Dad?" I asked when he was almost done.

"Yes, Yuuri?"

_Well, here goes nothing_ , I thought.

"Um, I just wanted to let you know that I'm going to Moscow for the day a week from Saturday.. if that's okay?" I was an adult, I shouldn't need to ask for permission, but I felt it was a courtesy I owed him, so I ended up tacking the question on at the end anyway.

"Why?" He sounded mildly curious, so I took it as a sign to continue.

"Well, I wanted to find a place I could skate without it being packed all the time. My blades are getting kind of worn out, too, so I'd like to replace them." I had more money than I was used to having, seeing as Toshiya had bought my car for me - not that it didn't cost me quite a bit in the gas department.

"Your car probably doesn't get very good gas mileage," he said, seeming to read my thoughts.

"I know, I'll stop for gas on the way if I have to."

"Are you going by yourself?" he asked, taking off his glasses to polish them on the hem of his shirt before replacing them on his face.

"Yes." Who would go with me? Everyone would be enjoying themselves at the spring dance.

"Moscow is a big city, Yuuri. What if you get lost?"

"Dad, St. Petersberg is just as big. I can get GPS on my phone, don't worry."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

I loved my father, but I knew how tough it was to get time off of work on such short notice.

"That's okay, Dad. I'll probably be on the rink all day, it could get boring."

"I don't mind watching you skate," he smiled encouragingly. I had only one card left to play now.

"No offense, but I just need to be by myself for awhile - to think." I sold it well - pouting bottom lip and everything.

"Well, all right, Yuuri," Toshiya relented, eyes crinkling at the corners as he continued to smile.

"Thanks, Dad." I returned the smile, relieved.

"Will you be back in time for the dance?" 

"How do you know about that?" I gaped, the last of the _pirozhki_ halfway to my mouth.

"Well, I'm friends with the Dean at Vaganova, and they mentioned it to me this morning."

Well, that explained things. I shook my head frowning.

"No, you know how my performance anxiety gets." I really hoped he understood. He hadn't seen me skate since I was little, so I hope his memory hadn't faded over time.

"Of course, I'm sorry, Yuuri," he realized. 

At least he remembered, which was good. After cleaning up and finishing my homework, I dropped off to sleep, the muffled sounds of the city filtering through the closed window.

***

The next morning, when I pulled into the parking lot, I deliberately parked as far from the silvery blue Audi as possible. I didn't want to put myself in the path of temptation again. Getting out of the cab, I fumbled with the key, where it ended up falling into a puddle at my feet. As I bent to get it, a slim white hand flashed out and yanked it from the freezing water before I could. Jerking upright, I found Victor Nikiforov standing two feet away, leaning casually against my truck and twirling my key ring in his fingers.

"How do you _do_ that?" I blurted, unable to keep the awe from my voice.

"Do what?" he asked, the flash of silver coming to a halt as he held my key out to me. As I reached out to take it, he dropped in my palm.

"Appear out of thin air!"

His lips curved into that familiar heart shape, and I had to remind myself not to stare.

"Yuuri, it's not my fault if you don't notice me." His tone was light and playful, like it had been when he came back after taking the week off. 

His eyes were vibrant again today - a brilliant cerulean with flecks of green and gold around the irises. I frowned, shuffling in place and glancing back down at my keys. 

"Why the traffic jam yesterday?" I wondered aloud, still looking at anywhere but Victor's face. "I thought you weren't interested in being.. friends." Swallowing the lump in my throat, I chanced a peek up at him through my lashes. 

"Ah, sorry about that. It was Yura's idea." He seemed uncomfortable suddenly, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Yura?" I questioned, and then it hit me. "You mean, your brother _Yuri_?"

"My hands were tied, and we had to wait for the others anyway, so.." he trailed off, smile slipping a little. "I didn't say I wasn't interested in friendship." he continued, finally locking eyes with me again.

"So, you _want_ to be friends?" I couldn't help it; first he was hot, then cold, then hot again. Maybe he just couldn't make up his mind and wanted to frustrate me.

Delight flashed in his oceanic eyes, lips curling into a wide heart shape.

"Of course, Yuuri! I'm friends with all of my students." he proclaimed, flicking the silver locks from over one eye and winking. I tried not to combust on the spot.

"Oh," I mumbled, turning to walk away.

"Yuuri, wait!" he called, but I kept walking, assuming he would choose to follow. I didn't have long to wait, he caught up with me in about a second, sloshing through the wet pavement beside me.

"I meant what I said," he continued as we walked. I wasn't trying to ignore him, but I didn't want to be late for class. "I would like for us to at _least_ be friends."

"I want to believe that, Master Nikiforov," I mumbled, not making eye contact. "but it's hard if you keep pushing me away." I didn't see the pained expression cross his features before it was wiped away, but I did see one of his hands clench into a fist before slowly unfurling again.

"Well, before I get sidetracked again, can I ask you something?" He seemed to have recovered his good humor, at least.

"All right," I sighed, pausing under the covered walkway. "What do you want to ask?"

"I was wondering if you were free on the Saturday after next - you know, the day of the spring dance."

With a groan, I covered my face with my hands, unable to believe what was about to happen.

"Are you being _serious_ right now?" I ground out through clenched teeth, withdrawing my hands to frown up at my ballet teacher.

A flicker of wicked amusement passed through his eyes before he smiled, all perfect teeth and heart-shaped mouth.

"Will you please allow me to finish, Yuuri?"

I bit my lip, debating on whether or not I should just bolt to class. In the end, I relented, clasping my gloved hands together and trying to keep the frigid breeze from solidifying me on the spot.

"Okay."

With a pleased hum, Victor continued as though nothing had happened.

"Well, I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with Ms. Abelashvili that you were travelling to Moscow that day, and I was wondering if you wanted a ride."

That was _not_ what I was expecting. 

"What?" I wasn't sure whether to laugh or scowl, so I chose polite bewilderment instead.

"Do you want a ride to Moscow?" he repeated, patient as ever.

"With who?" I asked, still not getting where he was going with this.

"Myself, of course." He replied cheerfully, pointing to himself so there would be no mistake as to who he meant.

"But _why_?" I was still stubbornly refusing to accept this.

"Well, I was planning on driving to Moscow in the next few weeks, and your car seems a bit old. I don't think it was made for long distances."

I snorted, finally regaining my composure. No one insults my rustbucket but me.

"My car works just fine, Master Nikiforov. You don't need to worry so much." I started to walk again, almost eager now for something to do other than stare up at him with a stupid look on my face.

"But can it make it there on one tank of gas?" He continued to match my pace; I could hear the frown in his voice without even having to look over.

"Of course it can!" I huffed. "Probably," I admitted, unwilling to lie.

"Well, there you have it!" Victor proclaimed, as though the matter was already settled.

"Master Nikiforov," his lips twitched downward at the sound of his title, but I forged on. "I honestly can't keep up with you. I thought you didn't _want_ to be friends."

"I said it would be _better_ to remain as we are, not that I didn't _want_ to be your friend, Yuuri."

"That's not helpful," I pouted, realizing I had stopped walking yet again. We were under the shelter of the front building now, so I could more easily study his face. It certainly didn't help me understand his train of thought, though.

"It would be.. _easier_ to not be friends," he explained. "But I'm tired of taking the easy way out. Besides," he added, taking a step closer in my direction. "It's been a very long time since I've had a close friend."

His eyes blazed in a glorious conflagration of colors; they reminded me of sunlight sparkling against a sea of ice, and I found that I could not look away.

"Would you please ride with me to Moscow? I don't want you to get hurt."

As if on cue, his words to me before he walked away down the lonely white corridor of the ER played themselves over and over again in my mind, like a broken record.

_I couldn't bear to see you die._

Overcome with the sudden need to escape, I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

Victor sighed, gazing down at me with such fondness before his eyes narrowed slightly, delicate eyebrows furrowing.

"I meant every word, Yuuri," he murmured, eyes half lidded. "I'll see you in class, all right?"

Without a backward glance, he turned on his heel and walked back the way we'd come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone ground Yuri Plisetsky, jfc...
> 
> Notes:
> 
> Moscow was the obvious choice to send Yuuri. Since my internet decided it wanted to not load, I abandoned specifics about where he might stop in between and glossed over it. That might happen until hotspot data gets renewed on the first of March. [shrug emoji]
> 
> Yuri is still using his gift for personal gain where Yuuri is involved, again for Victor's sake. He knows it's shifty, but he's convinced himself that it's all for the greater good (Victor not putting his heart were his mouth is, basically).
> 
> Speaking of a certain heart mouth, Victor is having trouble with his own feelings. What he wants vs. what is right. As a vampire, he knows that one step out of bounds could, at the very least, leave Yuuri with a broken heart (as opposed to broken bones). He wants to prevent anything from happening to the silly (cute) human no matter what happens (short of exposing himself and his family). His next move could very well set the stage for what those familiar with the book/movies will recall as the turning point in both their lives.
> 
> I'm itching to write Phichit into the story, but the role I have him playing means he won't show up for a good many chapters. I think it's rather obvious who he'll be, and I can't wait to unleash him on Yuuri. <3
> 
> Prayer circle for Minami Kenjirou, come on and gather 'round. [prayer hands emoji]


	6. Through the Fire and Flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Light a match, set it aflame, watch it burn, burn, burn.
> 
> You know what they say happens when you play with fire..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're on our way to the relationship tag, slowly but surely. Yuuri just has to be comfortable around Victor first, and that's what I hope to accomplish with this chapter.
> 
> Yuri finally obeyed me again, but we'll see how long that lasts lmao.
> 
> Without further ado, please enjoy! <3

I made my way to French in a daze. I didn't even realize when I first walked in that class had already started.

"Well, it's about time, Mister Katsuki," Ms. Okukawa called, sounding rather put out.

I flushed, stammered an apology, and hurried to my seat.

It wasn't until the lesson ended that I finally felt my head clear. Minami sat in his usual place in front of me, and met me at the door to walk me to class. He kept humming happily as we walked, and I had a funny feeling it had to do with Ketty. He kept up a string of chatter on the way to Russian Lit, mostly about the weather report. The rain was supposed to take a minor break, and so maybe his beach trip would be possible. I tried to sound eager to make up for disappointing him yesterday. It wasn't hard; rain or no rain, it would still only get up into the high teens, maybe twenties if we were lucky.

The rest of the morning seemed to pass in a blur. It was difficult to believe I hadn't just imagined what Victor had said, and the way his eyes had looked. Maybe it was just a very convincing dream that I'd confused with reality. That seemed more probable than thinking I appealed to him on any level.

I was anxious and slightly impatient as Yuuko and I entered the cafeteria. I almost wanted to see his face, just to see if he'd gone back to being cold and indifferent like he used to be when we first met. If, by some miracle, I'd actually heard what I thought I had this morning, then maybe I wasn't dreaming after all. Yuuko babbled on about her dance plans with Takeshi - Michele and Sala, and Minami and Ketty were all going together - completely unaware of my inattentiveness. 

Disappointment washed through me as my eyes unerringly focused on his table. The other four were there, but Victor was absent. Had he decided to eat lunch with the other teachers? A quick glance at the staff table near the front showed no signs of his tell-tale silver locks, so I gave up with a shrug. I followed the still-babbling Yuuko through the line, debating on what to eat. I bought a bottle of lemonade and a large muffin. It was almost twice the size of my hand, so I wouldn't have an empty stomach come next lesson with Victor.

"Master Nikiforov is trying to get your attention, Yuuri," Yuuko said, the sound of her voice finally registering. "I wonder why he's sitting alone today?"

Head snapping around to follow her gaze, I spotted Victor, waving at us from an empty table across the cafeteria from where he usually sat. Once he'd caught my eye, he stopped waving and pointed with an index finger at the chair across from him. As I stared in disbelief, he winked.

"I think he wants to talk to you about something." Yuuko tilted her head, then turned to me expectantly.

"Maybe he wants to go over the audition pieces again?" I guessed, wracking my brains for a suitable excuse. "Um, I guess I'll go see what he wants. See you later."

"Bye, Yuuri!" she called after me, likely watching me walk away.

Wending my way between tables had become easier since I'd lost a few pounds. That didn't stop me from accidentally bumping into the back of someone's chair on the way to Victor's table, though. When I finally approached, face aflame, I stood behind the chair across from him, nervously shifting from one foot to the next.

"Would you like to sit with me today, Yuuri?" he asked, heart-shaped smile in place.

"Um, sure," I murmured, sitting down in the indicated chair, watching him cautiously.

He was still smiling as though truly happy I had decided to stay. His blue grey eyes glimmered, and I swallowed, nervous. I probably wasn't in trouble; he hadn't said my performance was lacking much of anything during the last lesson. He seemed to be waiting for me to say something, so I obliged.

"What did you want to talk about, Master Nikiforov?" I finally asked.

"Well," he paused, wrinkling his nose at the sound of his title before continuing. "I decided that as long as I was going to break some rules, I might as well do it now before I changed my mind."

I blinked, confused, waiting for him to say something that actually made sense. The seconds ticked by, and I had no choice but to pick up the thread of conversation from where he'd dropped it.

"Um, I have no idea what you mean," I eventually pointed out.

"I know, I'm sorry." He smiled again, shaking his head before changing the subject. "I think your friends are a little disappointed with me for stealing you away." 

"I think they'll be okay without me." I could feel their curious stares boring into my back.

"Will they be sad if I don't give you back?" he asked, head tilted and a mirthful gleam in his eyes.

"I doubt it." I frowned, opening my lemonade bottle and taking a sip just for something to do.

"Are you worried?" He lowered his voice so that I had to lean forward a little just to hear him.

"Well, no, just surprised." I smiled, rubbing the back of my neck. "What brought all this on?"

"It's like I told you before - I'm tired of taking the easy way out, so I'm giving up." He was still smiling, but his glacial eyes were serious.

"Giving up?" I repeated, confused.

"Yes, giving up on always letting what I want slip through my fingers. I'm just going to go for what I want now and let things progress how they may." His smile faded as he explained, and a sad edge crept into his voice.

"You've lost me again," I frowned, unwrapping my muffin and breaking off a piece, stuffing it in my mouth.

The endearing heart-shaped smile reappeared.

"I always say too much when I'm talking to you, which is one of the problems."

Humming thoughtfully, I broke off another piece of muffin, hesitantly offering it to Victor, who took it and popped it into his mouth without so much as looking down at it, chewing once or twice before swallowing.

"I don't really understand why, sorry." I apologized, taking another sip of lemonade before downing another piece of muffin.

"That's all right, you will eventually."

"So," I hesitated, glancing up at him through my lashes. "are we friends now, then?"

"Hm, friends.." he mused, clasping his hands together on the table in front of him, regarding me seriously.

"Maybe not," I murmured.

"Well, I'd like for us to be. If _you_ want to, of course." He smiled, teeth dazzling.

"Only if you promise not to be so.." I paused, looking sheepishly down at my muffin. "confusing." I finished, offering him another piece of muffin, which he promptly swallowed.

"For you, I'll try." He chuckled at the shocked look I threw him.

"So, as long as you're trying.. we can be friends?" I asked hopefully, stealing a look his way as I struggled to summarize the confusing exchange.

"Exactly."

I took another sip of lemonade, unsure what to do now. 

"What are you thinking?" he asked curiously.

Looking up into his ocean blue eyes, I became mesmerized, and as usual, blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"I'm trying to figure out what you are."

He swallowed, but kept his smile in place with some effort.

"Are you having any luck?" he asked mildly, reaching over to break off a piece of muffin without being prompted, popping it into his mouth.

"Not really," I admitted. It was sort of true; I _had_ put a lot of effort into trying to come up with a proper category to place him in.

"Any theories?" He leaned forward, interested.

In a bid to avoid looking at him directly, I concentrated on what was left of my muffin, breaking it into pieces and shoving them in my mouth one by one. I had been vacillating during the last month between some sort of demon or tangible spirit. There was no way I was going to own up to _that._

"A few," I mumbled, unable to meet his eyes.

"I'm terribly curious now, will you tell me?" His eyes sparkled as he popped another piece of my muffin in his mouth. I hadn't even noticed him taking it.

"It's kind of embarrassing, honestly." I shrugged, sipping my lemonade.

"So? You can tell me, I won't judge you," he whined, bottom lip jutting out in a pout.

"I don't really want to, sorry." I smiled to lessen the sting of my rejection, finally looking his way.

He sighed, leaning back and sweeping the hair from his eye. 

"It's all right, Yuuri. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." 

I sighed, relieved. He snagged another piece of my muffin, pausing to look over my left shoulder. Chuckling, he popped it into his mouth.

"W-what is it?" I asked, unwilling to turn and see what had caught his attention.

"Your friend seems to think I might be harrassing you - he's debating on whether or not to come and rescue you." He shook his head, smile fading.

"I doubt that," I frowned, clutching the bottle of lemonade tightly.

"Well, I don't. Most people are easy to read, you see."

"Am I?" I asked before I could stop myself.

"No, you're not." He stared at me thoughtfully, raising a finger to his lips. "I wonder why that is.."

I had to look away from the intensity of his stare. I concentrated on taking another sip of lemonade, staring at the table without seeing it.

"Are you going to finish that?" he asked, pointing at the remains of my muffin.

"No." I shook my head; my stomach was already full of butterflies. If I ate anymore, I was going to hurl. "Would you like it?" I asked, proferring the rest of the muffin.

He looked like he was fighting some internal struggle for a moment before he shrugged, plucking the rest of the muffin from my hand.

"All right, why not." He smiled, popping a large piece into his mouth and chewing only once or twice before swallowing. It was nearly gone now.

"Can you do me a favor?" I asked, hesitating only a moment before the question left my lips.

"Of course, Yuuri." He had such a fond look in his eyes, I took another sip of my drink just so I could have a moment to gather my thoughts. It was nearly gone now, just like my muffin. 

"I was just wondering if you could.. warn me beforehand the next time you decide to ignore me for my own benefit. So I can prepare myself." I stared down at the lemonade bottle as I spoke, tracing the opening with a forefinger. 

"Ah, all right. I can do that." Now Victor was the one to look uncomfortable. He started picking apart the last piece of my muffin, reducing it to crumbs with his slim fingers instead of eating it.

"Thank you." I was a bit relieved. At least now I would have some forewarning of the silent treatment.

"May I have an answer in return?"

"Okay." That didn't sound so bad, I could do at least one.

"Please tell me one of your theories?" 

Swallowing, I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak. If I told my ballet teacher I thought he was a demon of some sort, I might as well be packing my bags right now.

"You promised you'd give me an answer if I asked.." he pouted, trailing off. 

"You've broken your fair share of promises already." I reminded him patiently. 

"Just one? I won't laugh or judge you at all."

"Yes, you will." I snorted softly, shifting my feet below the table.

He sighed, disappointed, glancing up at me through platinum coated lashes. A sigh left my lips as well, but for a very different reason.

"You're, um.. Superman?" I supplied, helpless to refuse any longer.

The edge of his lips twitched, but he did not laugh.

"As flattering as that is, I'm afraid not." He was fighting a smile, but it did not seem judgmental. I exhaled, unaware I'd been holding my breath.

"So.. no kryptonite?"

"No."

"Well, I might figure it out eventually." I was almost hopeful at the prospect.

"I wish you wouldn't try," he murmured, so low I almost didn't hear him over the chatter of the other students.

"Why not?" My curiosity was going to be the death of me, but I _had_ to know. I was in too deep now.

"What if I'm not a superhero? I could be one of the bad guys, for all you know." He was smiling sadly, though it did not reach his eyes.

I frowned, slowly connecting the dots.

"You think you're dangerous?" I guessed, eyes now wide as saucers behind my glasses. Maybe he was dangerous, and he'd been trying to hint at it all along. But that was ridiculous.

Finished with his task of shredding my muffin into tiny pieces, he brushed his hands together, dislodging any crumbs back into its wrapper, fixing me with piercing oceanic eyes.

"No, you're not bad," I whispered, smiling now that I understood. "You wouldn't have saved me from that van if you were."

His eyes widened, only to crinkle warmly as he smiled, mouth curling into a delicate heart shape.

"Thank you, Yuuri. I.." he trailed off before standing, gathering the bits of my muffin and crumpling the whole thing, wrapper and all, into a tight ball. "I want to believe that someday."

Finishing the last of my lemonade, I wondered why I no longer felt as anxious in his presence. He obviously meant what he was saying, but he was making an effort to take my words to heart. That was _something._

The silence lasted until I realized the cafeteria was almost deserted, save for a few stragglers. I tensed, jumping to my feet.

"M-master Nikiforov, we're going to be late!"

He stood slowly, motioning for me to follow him. I complied, too worried about my next lesson to think much about anything else. We dumped our trash and began making our way out of the cafeteria.

"The good thing about being a teacher, Yuuri," he began, strolling down the hall with a smile, hands in his pockets. "is that you can set the pace for your own lessons."

Oh, _right._ Swallowing the anxious lump in my throat, I hurried along in his wake. So many new questions had popped into my head, but they would have to wait. The warning bell rang and I rushed to keep up with Victor, who had hastened his elegant stride down the corridor.

He held the door open for me, bowing me into the room with a sweeping gesture of his arm. Pushing my glasses back onto my nose, I snorted, hurrying inside and straight to the changing room just as the final bell rang. He patiently waited for me to join the others at the _barre_ , pausing to help a few students with their stretching before he finally clapped his hands and began the lesson.

"If you all remember, auditions will start tomorrow and continue for the next few days. Now, I'd like for each of you to give me your best form!" 

A few groans sounded among the excited whispers. That's right, I'd nearly forgotten. Some of the older students, myself included, were going to organize and perform a play of Victor's choice to be graded on at a later date. That meant I had to improve even more before then.

Luckily, he started at the other end of the line, testing our flexibility, posture, and stamina. If there was one good thing about me, it was that I had a lot of stamina, outlasting all the other students by at least a few minutes before I had to stop. He kept us all at it until the bell rang for the next class. Sighing with relief, as so many others had, I began my post-stretch workout, in no hurry to leave for a change.

"Wonderful work, everyone! I hope to see you all next lesson for the auditions!" Before everyone left, he met each student at the door, producing an armful of scripts, exchanging a few brief words before handing one off and waving them out the door.

Since I had been in no hurry to leave, I was the last one in line after changing, waiting with baited breath for what part Victor had chosen for me.

"Ah, Yuuri!" The way my name left his mouth, the first syllable extended, his accent made the simple word sounds like a song. It made my stomach churn; he'd never said my name _that_ way before.

"Yes, Master Nikiforov?" I smiled, proud that my voice didn't waver.

"Here," he handed me a thin sheaf of paper stapled together, some of the dialogue highlighted. "I want you to audition for this part. It will compliment your stamina well, and the speaking parts are very few."

I took the script from him, flipping through it idly. He was right. The stage directions relevant to the part scribbled fluidly beneath my name all required vigorous movement. I swallowed thickly, staring back up at him.

"This part seems kind of... sensual." I hesitated; after our earlier conversation, I didn't want to go upsetting him now that we were sort of friends.

"Well, yes. I _did_ debate on whether you were better suited to a more innocent role." His head tilted to the side, revealing both eyes. "But, I think _Eros_ was meant for you, Yuuri."

I was sure my mouth resembled a gaping fish, and I quickly snapped it shut. The warning bell rang, and I hastily stuffed the script into my duffel bag, rearranging it so it could rest comfortably atop my _pointe_ shoes.

"Um, all right. I'll try for _Eros_." Personally, I thought I suited the role of _Agape_ much better. He was innocent sweet, and kind; _Eros_ was the opposite. Sensual, exuding desire, and confidence spilling from every pore - everything I wasn't. For now, I would trust Victor's judgment.

"Wonderful! I can't wait to see how you'll bring the role of _Eros_ to life."

Nodding, I was about to sprint out of there when he snagged my sleeve, tugging me back a little. Turning, I found myself face to face with Victor and immediately stepped back a pace. My heart could only handle so much, and I'd reached my anxiety limit for the day. At least the rain had stopped.

"Wait," he pleaded, and I threw him an inquiring look. "I think Yura is skipping his next lesson. So, you have no need to worry." He smiled, finally letting go of my sleeve.

"Um, okay." Unsure of what else there was to say, I bowed and made a hasty retreat, feeling his eyes on my back all the way down the hall.

I was lucky; Mister Oda didn't appear to be in the room yet when I arrived to class, breathless and barely late, the last notes of the klaxon fading outside in the hall as I took my seat. Victor had not been wrong - Yuri Plisetsky was nowhere to be found. A sigh of relief escaped. Now that Victor and I were on better terms, I had almost dreaded the next encounter I would have with his adopted brother, sure that he would be the same surly teen as always.

Mister Oda entered the room then, calling the class to order. He was dragging behind him what appeared to be a bunch of tiny flamethrowers on a cart. He began to set each of them up on either side of the room on the counters against the walls. 

"All right, everyone. We're going to be melting glass today and studying how heat affects the way the glass is shaped." He produced a pair of thick gloves from a box on the cart and strapped them on. The catch of velcro seemed like a bad omen. "I want you each to take a spun glass orb," he said, digging through another box and producing a fist-sized glass sphere that glinted in the over head lighting as he held it up for the class to see. "and attach it to the base rod here," he continued, demonstrating on the biggest flamethrower on the blacktop counter at the front of the room. "I'll be carefully monitoring the temperature regulation so no accidents happen, but I must still ask each of you to be _very_ careful."

I swallowed, suddenly wishing the empty space beside me was full. I wasn't exactly _afraid_ of fire, per se. I just didn't trust myself not get burned. Clenching my fists beneath the table to steady myself, Mister Oda asked Minami to pass around safety goggles, aprons, and gloves. He gave me a reassuring smile when he got to my table; I took them and stuffed my glasses in their case and into my duffel bag, tugging on the safety goggles in their place. I would be _fine_ , there was a teacher present.

"I'll be coming around to monitor your progress. Your lab partners from the last exercise will be necessary. One of you will operate the flame, like so." He flipped a switch on the back of the device, and a thin tongue of flame sprang forth. A few students gasped in delight, a girl at the back of the room startled herself so badly she nearly fell out of her chair, and Minami clapped enthusiastically. "and the other will record your progress down on paper." I felt sweat bead at my hairline. 

As the class partnered up into pairs, I was left grimacing alone at my table. It was pretty inconvenient for Yuri to pick today of all days to skip Physics. Now not only was I apprehensive about doing this whole lab by myself, I was embarrassed. The feeling got worse as Mister Oda approached my table with a frown.

"Plisetsky is absent today?" he asked, setting a glass sphere at my table and a sheet to record the temperatures and shape of the glass once it had melted. I nodded, fastening the leather apron around my waist. "It's a little dangerous to be doing this by yourself, but you are one of my older students.." he trailed off, pausing to look me up and down. I tried to hold my chin higher and give off an aura of responsibility. _I could do this._

"I don't mind working alone, sir." I assured, with far more confidence than I felt.

"All right, Mister Katsuki." he relented after a moment. Tongues of flame began to fly, and that was his cue to patrol the room. " _Please_ be careful." Casting me a worried look, he hurried off across the room to supervise two girls.

I took a deep breath and picked up the glass sphere. This couldn't be that hard. I very carefully lodged the sphere into place and checked the temperature gauge. It was set a little high, so I lowered it before flicking the switch to turn it on, not realizing that I'd placed my other hand very near the metal nozzle for support.

Pain was immediate. The left side of my right hand was awash in blue-tinged flame. Crying out, I stumbled backward into my chair, thrusting out my other hand to stop myself from tripping. The sounds of spitting fire died immediately. Students began whispering to each other, and Minami was on the verge of rushing to my aid before Mister Oda beat him to it.

"Mister Katsuki, what happened?" His voice was frantic as he shut the stream of fire off from my machine, hurrying around the desk and checking me over. 

"I'm sorry Mister Oda, I just.. I was careful, but.." I trailed off, hissing in discomfort as I pulled off the too-warm leather glove and apron. An angry weal spread from the base of my thumb to the first knuckle of my middle finger. Almost the entire back of my hand was pink.

"Can someone take Yuuri to the nurse, please?" Mister Oda called.

I didn't have to look up to know that Minami had volunteered to be my escort.

"You need to get some cold water and burn ointment on that immediately. Can you walk?" Mister Oda asked.

"Yes," I whispered, biting my lip and cradling my hand against my chest. 

Minami gently pulled off my safety goggles, leaving them on the pile of leather that used to be my gloves and apron. Grabbing my duffel bag in hand, he placed an arm around my shoulder. I leaned against him gratefully as we exited the classroom.

Minami towed me quickly across campus, mouth set in a grim line, canine digging into his lower lip. As soon as we got out into the crisp afternoon air, I stopped.

"Can I just sit for a minute, please?" I begged, wiping away the tears that had accumulated as the burn continued to smart.

He just nodded, helping me find a relatively dry bit of walkway to sit on. I immediately stuck my hand in a snow drift, left over from the day before. Relief was not far off. The chill was welcome after the intense heat of the Physics room. I closed my eyes, leaning forward and hiding my face in my arm, resting it on my knees. It seemed to help.

"Are you okay, Yuuri?" Minami finally asked, rubbing circles into my back. He was still wearing his safety goggles and apron but his gloves had been discarded. I barely managed a nod when another voice reached my ears.

"Oi, piggy." The voice was distant, but that accent was unmistakable.

_Oh, no.. please let it be anyone else._

"What's wrong, did he hurt himself?" His voice was closer now, and he sounded annoyed. Definitely _not_ imagining things, then. I squeezed my eyes shut, keeping my hand dunked in the snow drift and my face hidden in my arm.

"We had that fire experiment today, remember? He burned himself, even though he was wearing gloves." Minami seemed stressed. I imagined him looking from me to the other Yuri, worry filling his expression.

"Hey," Yuri's voice was beside me now, still sounding agitated. "Can you hear me?"

"Ugh," I groaned, refusing to speak or lift my head.

He scoffed, shuffling closer.

"I was taking him to the nurse," Minami explained patiently, "be he needed to stop for a minute."

"I'll take him," Yuri said, sighing heavily. "You go back to class."

"Are you sure, Yuri?" Minami asked, uncertain. I could almost feel him biting his lip again. "I can do it."

The sidewalk suddenly disappeared from beneath me. My eyes flew open in shock; Yuri had gripped my arm and hauled me to my feet like I weighed nothing and was now tossing my arm over his shoulder.

"W-wait, Yuri! I can walk!" He started walking before I'd finished protesting.

"Be careful with him, Yuri!" Minami called from behind us. Yuri ignored him, forging on.

"You look like shit," he grumbled, adjusting the strap on what I now realized was my duffel bag on his shoulder. He must have snagged it from Minami.

"You can let me go," I began, wincing as his grip on my wrist tightened slightly. He wasn't being rough but it wasn't exactly helping matters, either. He was only using the one hand to support me, like my weight didn't bother him at all.

"Didn't someone ever tell you not to play with fire?" he asked irritably. He still sounded annoyed, but I was starting to think he was just that way with everyone.

"It's not like I did this on _purpose_ ," I ground out between clenched teeth. 

I don't know how he got the door open while holding both me and my duffel, but it was suddenly a lot warmer, so I knew we had made it back inside. He towed me down the hall in silence towards the nurse's wing, opening that door with little effort as well.

"Oh, dear," I heard a female voice gasp.

"He burned himself in Physics," Yuri grumbled.

I finally opened my eyes. I was in a small, sterile room at the back of the building. The curtains were shut against the weak grey light of the afternoon, and three cots separated by thin blue curtains lined one wall. On the other, medicine cabinets and two desks occupied the space. It was homey in a way. 

The nurse on duty looked up from her novel, astonished, as Yuri tugged me into the room and placed me gently on the thin cotton sheets of one mattress. After dumping my duffel at the foot of the bed, he moved off to stand against the wall as far across the room from me as possible. I was still without my glasses, but I thought he looked more worried than annoyed, jade green eyes narrowed my way.

"Check his hand, he stuffed it in the snow on the way here." he told the nurse, who was now hurrying over to the medicine cabinet on the other wall. "They were melting glass today."

"There's always one," muttered the nurse, grabbing ointment and bandages and hurrying to my side.

He muffled a snort.

"Just lie down," the nurse instructed, gentle Russian flowing from her lips in a bid to soothe me. "Here, let me see."

I uncurled my hand from against my chest, holding it out for her to examine. It still looked an angry shade of pink, but the pain had lessened somewhat since I shoved it in the snow. She hissed in sympathy before snagging a clean rag to tenderly wipe the remaining snow and water from my hand. Clenching my teeth, I refused to cry out, even though it smarted like hell.

"You were very lucky," she continued, now smoothing the ointment onto the afflicted area.

"I was wearing my gloves," I admitted, looking anywhere but my hand as she worked. Everything was still blurry; I needed to put my glasses on again soon.

"There's that, at least." She turned to Yuri, then. "You can go back to class now, I've got him."

"I'm supposed to stay with him." Whipping my head around, I stared at him, unable to believe my ears. He'd just lied to a member of staff, and hadn't even batted an eyelash. The nurse didn't argue with him, but she pursed her lips and continued patching up my hand, wrapping thick white bandages around my wrist and thumb.

"I'll go get you an ice pack to numb the pain a bit more. Stay right there," she said, and bustled out of the room.

I sighed, tugging my duffel bag toward me and rummaging inside. I found what I was looking for in seconds. Shoving my glasses back onto my face, I frowned, non-injured hand brushing the script before I zipped it up again. That's right, I was supposed to practice the piece I was given before the next lesson. Lot of good that would do me now.

"Is it serious?" Yuri's question surprised me; he sounded curious rather than annoyed for a change.

"Not really, but it stings," I murmured, still unwilling to look him in the eye.

"I thought the midget was carting your dead corpse to dump in the ocean," he admitted after a pause, lips twitching as though he was trying not to smile at the thought.

"Yeah, right," I snorted, holding my bandaged hand close to my chest. At that moment, a feeling of warmth stole over me. Frowning down at my hand, I found it didn't sting quite so much anymore; the warmth was soothing after the harsh bite of the frigid snow.

"Actual dead bodies look better than you did. I even thought about avenging your murder."

He was examining his fingernails now, nonchalant as could be. I smiled, shaking my head. The warmth had receeded some, but it still kept the stinging in my hand at bay.

"Poor Minami, I hope he's not too worried."

"He's probably having kittens in the lab." Yuri snorted, glancing my way again. The warmth intensified and I layed back onto the thin, lumpy pillow, trying to relax.

"How did you see me? Victor said you were skipping the lesson." I asked after a moment, turning from gazing at the ceiling to gauge his expression. I caught the slight narrowing of his eyes as I said his brother's name, and I gulped. 

"I was sitting in Victor's car, listening to a CD." Yuri shrugged. It was such a teenage thing to do, I blinked at the response before I remembered the parking lot was on the far side of campus, away from the science wing.

Hearing the door open again, I looked up to see the nurse walk in, cold compress in hand.

"Here you go," she said kindly, laying it across the back of my hand. The warmth kept the pain at bay, so I barely felt the cold seeping through the bandages into my skin. "Feeling better?" she asked, scrutinizing my face for any signs of pain.

"I think I'm okay," I said, sitting up and swinging my legs over the edge. 

Checking the clock on the wall, I found that class was almost over. Probably no sense in going back now.

"The period is almost over, but do you think you feel up to going back?" the nurse asked, looking from me to Yuri, who shrugged.

"I have Victor right now, he's only doing review lessons." Yuri shoved his hands in his pockets and turned towards the door. "Come on, Katsuki. I'll walk you back."

Stunned, I thanked the nurse for her help, handing back the cold compress. I wouldn't need it anymore. Snagging my duffel bag, I hurried out of the nurse's office, determined to catch up with Yuri before he left me behind.

"You actually listened to me, huh." He seemed surprised, watching me carefully as we made our way back down the hall.

"I didn't want to be left behind." I shrugged. The stinging had pretty much subsided now, but the warmth persisted. I was glad; whatever the feeling was, it was soothing and kept my mind off my hand.

He was staring at me with an unfathomable expression. I blinked back, unsure of what to say.

Minami met us a few feet from the door to the Physics lab, shuffling in place. He would have thrown himself at me had Yuri not grabbed him by the scruff and set him effortlessly down a couple feet away.

"Oh, Yuuri! I was so _worried_. Are you all right?" He seemed close to tears, so I nodded, brandishing my bandaged hand as proof.

"I'm okay, Minami. See?" 

"Are you coming back to class?" he asked, looking from me to Yuri and back again.

I turned to Yuri; he shrugged, muttering something under his breath in rapid Russian. I took that to mean yes.

Mister Oda kept up a string of questions mixed with apologies when we returned to our seats. I assured him that it was my fault. There were still a few minutes of the lesson to go, but Yuri was sitting on the edge of his seat, glaring at the flamethrower like it had wronged him personally somehow, fists clenched tightly on his knees. Perhaps that's another reason why we'd been given a separate assignment to turn in the next day. 

The warm feeling persisted until the bell signalling the end of the period rang, and it faded abruptly. I frowned, missing it already. Yuri rose slowly, sliding past my seat carefully as though afraid to jiggle my arm. Before he left, he turned back to me and I felt a sense of calm steal over me.

"Try not to get hurt next time, idiot."

Then he was gone, taking the calm feeling with him. Minami quickly replaced him, walking with me out of the lab, and I had no time to dwell on the strange things I kept feeling whenever Yuri Plisetsky was around.

"Are you still going this weekend?" Minami asked as we left the building into the cool, misty drizzle. For once I was happy about the moisture; it washed my face and glasses clean of perspiration.

"To the beach? I said I would." I had a feeling my hand would still give me trouble that day, so I hoped no strenuous climbing would be involved.

"We're meeting at my dad's store, at ten." Minami sounded relieved that I would still be going. No doubt he would make it as enjoyable for me as he could.

"I'll be there," I promised.

Smiling, he waved and dashed off to his next lesson, leaving me to walk the rest of the way to my car alone.

"See you tomorrow, Yuuri!" he called before disappearing into the second building.

"See you," I murmured, though he was too far away now to hear me.

Another surprise awaited me. A lone figure stood next to my car, silver hair catching the light and casting little glimmers of white every time he moved his head. I sighed, sure that I was in for it now.

He spotted me as I walked closer, looking as anxious as I'd never seen him before. Swallowing thickly, he waited until I got to my car before he pounced.

"Yuuri! I heard what happened, are you all right?" He reached out as though about to touch my shoulder before he abruptly yanked his hand back. Clasping both hands behind his back, he stepped closer until he was a foot away; I was stuck against the door of my car, so I could do nothing but stare incredulously up at him.

"I'm all right, Master Nikiforov." I swallowed, trying not to stare into those ice blue eyes, so filled with concern it made my heart give a little thump in response.

He grimaced, taking a step backward out of my personal space. I sighed, relieved.

"Is your hand all right?" he asked, eyes searching my face for.. something. Some sign of pain, perhaps.

I slowly proferred my bandaged hand from where it had been curled protectively against my chest. Victor looked from my hand to my face and back again before extending a hand from behind his back, reaching out as though to take it in his own before it stopped.

"May I see?" he murmured, still as a statue and gazing down at me with warmth and concern.

Nodding, I waited for him to take my hand and examine it. Surprisingly, he didn't, so with only the slightest bit of hesitation, I closed the distance between our hands, placing my heavily bandaged one in his slim, pale one.

It was like I'd plunged my hand back into the snow drift. Both hands were icy cold as he tenderly probed its bandaged surface. The stinging had returned somewhat, but was tempered by the feel of his fingers ghosting over the afflicted area, mouth turned down in a frown. 

"It doesn't hurt anymore," I offered, unnerved at the amount of care he was showing me, like he was afraid I might break down at any second.

"That's good," he sighed, finally satisfied with his examination, he slowly dropped my hand, as though reluctant to relenquish skin contact. "I'm very sorry this happened to you, Yuuri."

I shook my head, curling my hand back against my chest. No one was to blame for this but me.

"It was my fault, I wasn't careful enough." I was determined to make this quite clear. My own carelessness had lead to the accident, and that's all it was: an accident. I didn't blame anyone for what happened.

Victor gazed down at me sadly, clenching his hands behind his back once more. It hit me then that I might not perform to the best of my ability during my audition, and Victor seemed to be thinking along the same lines.

"Please don't worry about your audition piece. The process will start on Monday, so your hand will have some time to heal up before you turn comes around."

I thought that was very kind of him, considering.

"Thank you, Master Nikiforov."

He sighed, carding a hand roughly through his fringe before his gaze found mine again. I shuffled, unsure what else there was to say. Students that were finished with lessons for the day were slowly filing their way out of the parking lot. It would be another few minutes before the aisle was clear, but I didn't want to spend them standing speechless in front of my ballet teacher.

"Um, well, I should get home. My dad will be expecting me." I made to dig my keys out of my pocket and unlock the car with my good hand when I felt a hearty tug on my jacket sleeve. Confused, I turned toward the source.

I didn't have to look very far. Victor had placed a hand on my car door above my shoulder, shutting it gently. He'd grabbed my sleeve with the other, quickly retracting his hand now that he had my attention again.

"May I drive you home?" His blue eyes crinkled at the edges, though he wasn't smiling. "It might be hard for you to drive yourself what with your, ah.. injury." He tried to make it sound like I had only sprained my ankle instead of almost burning my hand off.

"What about my car?" I didn't see him driving it, nor did I think I would let him.

"I can have Mila drop it off for you after if you'd like." He'd brightened up some now that I wasn't stubbornly refusing his help. Gesturing me towards the silvery blue Audi, I could only follow as he fell into step easily beside me, twirling his keys around a forefinger.

"Only if she doesn't mind." I replied, clenching my uninjured hand around my own keys.

"Not at all! You'll have it safely returned to you before your father gets home." Unlocking the door with a press of a button, he opened the passenger door for me to slide in first. I did so with a sigh, my boots squeaking, shutting the door behind me.

He climbed into the driver's seat with much more fluid grace than I could ever hope to possess. 

"You really don't have to drive me home, sir." I murmured as he started the car, the engine turning over with a quiet purr.

"I _want_ to, Yuuri." He turned to fiddle with the controls, turning the heater up and the music down. I threw up no more objections, buckling my seatbelt and watching as he calmly steered us to the back of the line of cars leaving campus. 

No one else slid in behind us; the bell for next lesson had probably rung. I was content to stare out of the window and say nothing the whole ride back - aside from providing my address when Victor asked - when I recognized the music playing softly in the background.

"History Maker?" I asked, surprised.

"You know Dean Fujioka?" He smiled, reaching over to turn the volume up a little higher.

"Yeah, my mom would play lots of different things when I was younger and he was one of my favorites." I was smiling now, too, stinging hand nearly forgotten.

"It's one of my favorites, too." He stared out through the rain, lost in thought.

I relaxed against the light grey leather seat, letting the music wash over me in a calming wave. It was impossible not to respond to the familiar, soothing melody. The rain blurred everything outside the window into grey and blue smudges. I began to realize we were driving very fast through the afternoon traffic; the car moved so smoothly and steadily, I didn't even feel the speed. Only the blurred uniform buildings flashing by gave any indication of just how fast we were going.

"I apologize if this is too forward of me, but now I'm curious," he spoke up suddenly, diverting my attention from the rain-soaked road. "What is you mother like?"

I glanced over to see him studying me from his peripheral, curiosity alight in his eyes. I supposed there was no harm in answering; I had been the one to bring her up, after all.

"She looks a lot like me, only shorter and round. She's warm, supportive, and enthusiastic about my interests. She's an excellent cook, and she taught me everything she knows." He smiled, so I kept going, encouraged. "My dad is a bit different, but I have a lot of him in me. He's kind, but stern sometimes, and his eyes crinkle at the edges whenever he's happy." I sighed, suddenly feeling homesick.

"You love them very much." It wasn't a question, so I just nodded. "When is your birthday, Yuuri?" he asked suddenly, focusing all his attention on my face. I blinked, only just realizing he'd stopped the car. A quick glance out of the rain-streaked windshield told me we'd arrived at Toshiya's already.

"I'll be 24 this November twenty-ninth." It was an innocent enough question, so I no harm in telling him. He would surely find out on the day of anyway.

"You seem a bit older to me," he said, lips edging into its familiar heart-shape. It sounded more complimentary than anything; it made me laugh.

"My mom used to say I was an old soul stuck in a young body." For some reason, he smile faded, head tilted to regard me carefully. I swallowed, caught in the allure of his fathomless faded azure eyes. "You don't seem too old yourself, Master Nikiforov."

"I'm so glad! Yura always teases me by calling me an old man, but I'm glad _you_ don't think so." His face lit up like Christmas had come early. I blinked, taken aback at the emphasis he'd put on 'you'. The smile soon faded, replaced by a thoughtful frown as he stared out of the windshield. "Are your parents divorced?"

It must have been obvious from the way I talked about them separately. Either that, or it was a lucky guess.

"Yes. I think my dad still loves her, though." Now that I had begun talking, it was hard to stop. I hadn't told any of my friends this stuff. Maybe it was time I opened up to someone.

"How does that make you feel?" he asked, and I was reminded of the standard question a psychiatrist asked their patient.

"I just want them both to be happy, and if living apart is what it takes.." I trailed off, shrugging.

"That's very kind of you, though.. I wonder," he mused, finger to his lips.

"Hm?"

"Do you think your parents would be happy for you, no matter who you chose?" He was suddenly intent, eyes searching mine.

"I-I think so," I stuttered. "But they're my parents, so it's different."

"So, no one too scary, then?" he asked, a teasing lilt to his voice.

I laughed, shaking my head.

"What do you mean by scary? Tattoos and mulitple facial piercings?" I grinned, head tilted his way. I was finally at ease around Victor, and I wondered why he hadn't just been himself with me before now.

"That's one way of looking at it." He nodded, a serious gleam in his eyes though he remained smiling.

"What's your definition of scary?" I challenged.

He shrugged, ignoring the question, only to ask me another.

"Do you think _I_ could be scary, Yuuri?" He leaned forward, faint trace of a heart lining his lips, eyes dancing.

That was kind of odd to ask, but I gave it serious thought, deciding on the truth in the end.

"I think you _could_ be if you really wanted to." I finally said, watching his expression closely.

"Are you frightened of me now?" he asked, voice velvety soft and leaning in even further.

"Um, a little." I leaned back in response, chuckling nervously.

He shook his head, leaning back into his own personal space; I sighed, relieved. Victor Nikiforov was more intense than I had ever dreamed.

"May I ask about your family?" I asked to distract him, though I was genuinely curious. "They're probably way more interesting than mine."

"What would you like to know?" He sighed, facing forward to stare out of the windshield. I took that to mean I could proceed.

"The Nikiforov's adopted you?" I verified.

"Yes." 

"Um, what happened to your parents?" I asked after a moment's hesitation.

"They died many years ago." His tone had turned somber, and his eyes glittered.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, chastised. 

He shook his head, turning back to me, attempting a smile though it did not reach his eyes.

"It's all right, Yuuri. I don't really remember them anymore. Aleksander and Vasilissa have been my parents for a very long time now."

His parents had very regal names, like they came from a line of Russian royalty.

"You love them." It wasn't a question, and I was reminded of Victor's very same words to me just minutes ago. It seemed obvious in the way he spoke about them.

"Yes," he was smiling now, a gentle curve of his lips resembling half a heart. "I couldn't imagine two better people."

"You're very lucky," I observed.

"I know." 

"They adopted your siblings, too?"

He glanced at the clock on the dashboard before responding.

"Yes. They all requested to keep their original last names, and Alek and Lissa agreed." Those names were much easier for me to pronounce. He snorted out a laugh before continuing. "Unfortunately, I think they'll be quite upset with me if they have to stand out in the rain waiting for much longer."

"Um, I'm sorry! I lost track of time." It was true; I felt like we were in our own rain washed little bubble, and I was reluctant to burst it. I remembered just in time to hand over my car keys, which were gingerly taken and deposited in his glove box.

"It's all right, Yuuri. I imagine you'll want your car back before _Starshina_ Katsuki gets home, that way you won't have to tell him about the Physics incident." He was smiling, if a bit sadly, I thought.

"I just hope he hasn't already heard. He seems to know everything that goes on," I muttered, carefully unbuckling my seat belt, still cradling my bandaged hand to my chest.

"Speaking of knowing everything that goes on.. have fun at the beach on Saturday." He winked, and I choked on my question. "I hear it will be wonderful for sunbathing." He gazed out at the pouring rain.

"I'll try. Will I see you at the academy tomorrow?" I asked, despite knowing the answer. I didn't usually take his class on Fridays.

"No, Georgi and I are starting the weekend a bit early."

"What are you going to do?" I hoped I didn't sound disappointed. A friend could ask something like that, right?

"We're going hiking up in the Ural Mountains."

I nodded, remembering how Toshiya had said the Nikiforov's went on frequent camping trips.

"Well, um. Have fun?" I tried to sound enthusiastic, but I don't think I fooled him. He hummed thoughtfully before speaking.

"Will you do me a favor this weekend, Yuuri?" He turned to face me, hitting me with the full force of his sparkling crystalline eyes. All I could do was nod in the face of such intense concern.

"O-okay," I stuttered, eventually finding my voice.

"Please don't take this the wrong way, but I'm afraid you may aggravate your injury somehow. Will you please be careful not to.. fall in the ocean, or get run over?" There was that sad smile again. It didn't seem malicious, not with the way his eyes kept honing in on mine and flickering with emotion.

"I'll be careful, I promise." 

His answering smile was _angelic_ , and I gulped, sure that thoughts of one's ballet teacher smiling down at you as though you were the most endearing, beautiful creature on earth were illegal in every country.

"Thank you, Yuuri. Stay safe."

With those parting words, whispered so quietly I had to strain to hear them, I opened the car door, stepping back out into the rain. 

He was still smiling as I watched him drive away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: No Yuuris were seriously harmed in the writing of this chapter. He thankfully lowered the temp before he could sustain first degree burns. Don't worry, he'll be fine.
> 
> Notes:
> 
> I continue to pull vague Physics and Ballet lessons out of my ass. Regular internet would make researching topics so much easier, but alas.. One must make do with what one has. Hopefully one day I can do as much research as I please, but until then, may have to deal with me glossing over things. My continued apologies.
> 
> Yuri Plisetsky has finally found a use for his gift other than personal gain. We did it, kiddos. [single tear] As a note, he is technically 18, so there will be no underage shipping. He is their son who they love. (Or they will, cause y'know.) Yuri is rather attached to Victor. For reasons. That's why the guard dog tendencies when it comes to Yuuri getting close to him.
> 
> That's right, folks. Eros and Agape are characters is a play Victor wrote himself. He also choreographed their parts specifically to fit certain roles, if you catch my drift. ;)
> 
> I couldn't help myself with the song choice. I won't blame anyone for bricking me for it, it is kinda lame.
> 
> As far as I know, Victor never mentioned his parents names in canon, so I made up my own for them.
> 
> Phichit!! Is!!! Coming!!! Next chapter in t-minus one week, probably less. Be there, or be square.


	7. Tall Tales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri reunites with a friend he nearly forgot and learns quite a few things about a certain ballet teacher and his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said it'd be a week, but.... I accidentally lied.... I beg your forgiveness.
> 
> I tried writing for my other fics before picking this one up again, but it was a no go, they needed lots of research, so I had to pick one that I could just sit and write for and not think for awhile, and boom. Next Twilight chapter was born.
> 
> Yuuri is slowly improving, and it's now only a matter of time before he finally comes into his own.
> 
> An OC of mine appears briefly, but has no dialogue and does not interact with Yuuri directly. I needed someone to fill a role, but I'm saving the canon characters for later down the road. My apologies.
> 
> Also, Phichit finally appears. The itch can now be scratched.
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading, please enjoy! <3

I stood in my room, trying in vain to concentrate on the music from the CD Victor had left stuck in the back of the script for me to practice with. I took it easy on my hand, made the movements a little less emotional and a little more mechanical. It was easier that way, and I knew the emotions of the role would come later during the actual audition. Victor had faith in me, and I didn't want to let him down.

I kept the music at low volume so as not to disturb my neighbors, but really I was keeping an eye out for the sound of my car, sure the roar would drown out even the pounding rain. When I took a break to peek out of the curtain, there it was, parked expertly on the curb. Mila knew her way around cars, it seemed. The keys were left dangling in the ignition, so I retrieved them quickly before darting back upstairs to our flat.

Toshiya wanted me to go back to the ER as soon as he found out about my hand at dinner. I managed to convince him that I was fine, that it didn't even sting anymore, which was mostly true. He told me to take something for the pain, at least, and I was only too happy to oblige.

***

I wasn't looking forward to Friday, and my low expectations of the day were met fabulously. Of course there were the burn comments, but I expected those. Yuuko, thankfully, defended me, though that didn't stop Takeshi from teasing me about it. Minami hadn't said much about it, so no one seemed to know of Yuri's involvement.

"So, what did Master Nikiforov want yesterday?" Yuuko asked in Math.

"Just that my audition piece needed a bit more work before he felt comfortable giving it to me in class."

I felt guilty having to lie, but really, what was I supposed to tell her?

"You looked kind of worried," she fished.

"I did?" I kept my eyes down on our textbook, refusing eye contact.

"You know, I've never seen him sit with anyone but the other teachers or his family before. That was weird."

"Weird," I agreed. She seemed thoughtful, twirling a lock of short brown hair around her finger. It was a little strange for a teacher to suddenly play favorites, and I hoped no one else would make any comments.

The sad part about Friday was that, even though I knew Victor wasn't going to be there, I still looked for him. When I walked into the cafeteria with Yuuko, Takeshi, and Minami, I couldn't keep from scanning his table. Anya, Mila, and Yuri sat talking, their heads close together. I could have sworn Yuri's eyes followed me all the way to my table; he was frowning, but I was starting to accept that maybe he just never smiled. 

At our usual table, the topic of choice was our beach plans for tomorrow. Minami was his usual animated self, putting a great deal of trust in the local weatherman, who promised sun and mostly clear skies tomorrow. I'd have to see that before I believed it. It was warmer today, at least - almost thirty. Maybe the outing wouldn't be completely miserable.

I didn't have dance after lunch, so I spent the free period in the academy library until the bell rang. I didn't have Physics either, so I decided to go home early for the day. I would just have to practice my audition piece on Sunday.

***

That night at dinner, Toshiya seemed enthusiastic about my trip to Kamchatka in the morning. I think he felt guilty for leaving me home on the weekends, but he'd spent too many years building up his habits to break them now. He also seemed to approve of the people I was going with. I told him their names and he nodded politely after each one. I wondered if he would approve of my plan to ride to Moscow with Victor Nikiforov. I decided to keep that to myself; after all, he was my ballet teacher.

"Hey, Dad, are the Ural Mountains a good place to go camping?" The question dropped from my lips on a whim.

"No, too many wild animals. Bears, wolves, and the like. Why?"

"I overheard some kids talking about making a trip this weekend." I shrugged, playing off the lie. 

"Well, for their sake, I hope not." Toshiya frowned. We ate the rest of our dinner in silence and I retired to bed a little earlier than usual.

***

I meant to sleep in, but an unusual brightness woke me. I opened my eyes to see a clear golden light filtering through the curtains over my window, casting its muted rays across the floor. I couldn't believe it. Rubbing the sleep from eyes and snagging my glasses, I hopped out of bed to check, and sure enough, the sun was shining brightly, just cresting the spires of the Winter Palace. Wispy clouds scuttled across the sky, but large patches of blue were still visible. I lingered by the window as long as I could, just soaking in the sun like a sponge.

\---

The Kenjirou's Hunting Outfitters store was just east of town. I hadn't been this far out of town before, so there was no reason to stop by, not having much need for any outdoor supplies myself. In the parking lot, I recognized Minami's new Lada Granta and Michele's Sentra. As I pulled up next to their vehicles, I could see the group standing around in front of the Granta. Michele was there, along with Sala and Ketty. Yuuko was there with Takeshi, along with three tiny, nearly identical children who couldn't be more than six years old. Those most be Yuuko and Takeshi's kids they talked about sometimes.

At least it wasn't one of _those_ days. Minami was happy to see me, but that was normal.

"You came!" he called, delighted. "Didn't I say it would be sunny today?" He gestured widely, indicating the dappled sunlight that filtered through the nearby tree leaves and cast green-tinged shadows on the pavement.

"I told you I was coming," I reminded him, chuckling.

"We were just waiting on you, since a friend had to cancel. Unless you invited someone?" he added with a questioning tilt of his dirty blond head.

"No, I didn't invite anyone." It hadn't even crossed my mind to invite Victor, and it might have been frowned upon if I had.

Minami looked satisfied.

"Will you ride with me? It's either that or Takeshi's Dacia Duster with the triplets."

"Sure." The triplets in question were eyeing me up and down, mischievous glimmers in their eyes. I tried not to feel intimidated.

Minami grinned; it was only too easy to make him happy.

"You can have shotgun," he promised. That was fine with me.

With his friend cancelling, there turned out to be plenty of room after all. Another car pulled into the lot just then. It was sleek, black, and definitely foreign made. A tall, pale woman with raven hair that fell to her waist in light waves got out. She had striking features, and deep, amethyst eyes. I wondered if she was distantly related to the Crispinos. Her name was Madame Ambrose, and she taught the Historical Dance class at Vaganova; that would explain why I'd never seen her in any of my classes. 

I couldn't place why, but she intimidated me greatly. She carried herself with confidence, and had a low, soothing voice when she introduced herself. Only Minami seemed not to be bothered by her presence. She smiled down benignly at him, and she was perfectly courteous to the rest of us. She even patted the triplets on their identical heads, which was kind of endearing.

Sala offered her a ride with Michele, and Madame Ambrose accepted. She regarded each of us carefully, seeming to see right through us, and I was only too glad to climb into Minami's car some minutes later. (It turned out he took her class and had invited her himself. Maybe Victor wouldn't have been so out of place there after all.)

It was only twenty minutes to the reservation from St. Petersberg, with gorgeous, snow thick forests lining the road for most of the way and the wide Volga River snaking beneath it twice. I was glad to have the window seat. I tried to absorb as much sunlight as possible; despite not minding the cold, even ice skaters need to bask every now and again.

I'd been to the beaches around the reservation many times during my summers here with Toshiya, so the miles-long crescent of Kutkh Beach was familiar to me. It was still as breathtaking as I remembered. The water was a dark grey blue, even in the sunlight, white-capped and heaving to the pebbled shore. Sheer cliffs rose into the heavens on one side, reaching uneven summits and topped with austere, soaring firs.

The cry of seagulls overhead mixed with the rushing waves reminded me fondly of Hasetsu. The white gold sand stretched halfway to the tree-lined road, lined with large stones of every color, with driftwood scattered about the tide line, bone white and ghostly. Some were grouped together, but others stood solitary, bleached roots reaching towards the sky.

A brisk wind blew through, scattering sand and turning piles of it into small eddies before coming to rest elsewhere. The wispy clouds still circled, threatening to invade any moment, but for now, the sun shone brightly through its halo of blue sky.

We picked our way down the beach, Minami leading the way to a ring of driftwood logs that had obviously been used for parties like ours before. There was even a fire circle already in place, filled with black ashes. Michele and Takeshi gathered broken bits of driftwood from the drier piles near the forest edge, and soon had a cylindrical construction built atop the pile of old cinders.

"Have you ever seen a driftwood fire, Yuuri?" Minami asked.

I was sitting on one of the bone-colored benches, the triplets clustered around me and spouting questions about my dancing on either side of me. Yuuko sat nearby, trying to corral her children, but I didn't mind. They were cute and eager to learn. Their names were Axel, Lutz, and Loop, and they knew more about dancing and figure skating than I did at their age. Takeshi kneeled by the fire, lighting one of the smaller sticks with a cigarette lighter.

"No," I said as he placed the blazing twig against the rest of the wood.

"You'll like this, then. Watch the colors." He lit another small branch and laid it alongside the first. The flames started to lick quickly up the dry wood.

"It's blue," I said, surprised. The triplets dug out their phones and began snapping pictures.

"The salt does it. Pretty cool, right?" He lit one more piece, placed it on the edge where the fire hadn't yet caught, and came to sit by Yuuko. She turned to him, claiming his attention for the moment. I sat and watched the strange blue and green flames crackle towards the sky.

After a half hour of chatter, the boys wanted to hike to the nearby tide pools. I was all for it; I loved the tide pools, they'd been one of the only things I looked forward to as a child when I came to St. Petersberg. I was a lot bigger now, and there was less chance of me falling in. It reminded me of Victor's request and I smiled.

Madame Ambrose chose to stay behind with Ketty, so that basically sealed the deal for me. Ketty was apprehensive at first, but she warmed up and eventually engaged her in conversation about ballet. Sala had decided to stay as well, which meant Michele wasn't going either. That just left the Nishigoris, Minami and I. Minami shot me a grin when he saw that I was coming along. I returned it, eager to get going.

The hike wasn't too long, though I hated to leave the warmth of the fire behind. The weak white light of the forest was strangely at odds with the childlike laughter of the triplets, too murky and ominous to be in harmony with the light banter around me. We had to watch our step as we trudged through the snow, on the lookout for roots below and branches above. Breaking through the pristine white and brown confines of the forest, we found the rocky shore once again. It was low tide, and a tidal river flowed past us on its way to the sea. Along the pebbled banks, shallow pools that never completely drained teemed with life.

I was very cautious not to lean too far over the little oceanic ponds. Minami was fearless, leaping over the rocks and perching precariously on the edges. I might have done the same if hadn't been for my hand. The stinging had gone, but I didn't want to risk it. I found a very stable looking rock on the fringe of one of the largest pools and sat on the edge, spellbound by the natural aquarium below me. The bouquet of brilliant anemones undulated ceaselessly in the invisible current; twisted shells scurried about the edges, obscuring the crabs within; starfish stuck motionless to the rocks and each other; one small black eel with white racing stripes wove through the dull green and brown weeds, waiting for the sea to return. I was completely absorbed; from my peripheral, I noticed the triplets had whipped out their phones and were taking pictures and recording video.

Finally, the triplets were hungry, and I got up stiffly to follow them back. They showed me the pictures they'd taken, and I was embarrassed to find that a number of them were of me when I was sitting on the rocks, just watching the sealife. Yuuko scolded them, but I wasn't bothered; the far off look on my face captured the scene well. I asked them to send me a couple, and we exchanged numbers. They were big into social media, too, but I didn't let slip any of my own accounts.

When we got back to the beach, the group we'd left behind had multiplied. As we got closer, we could see the shining dark hair and copper skin of the newcomers; teenagers from the reservation had come to socialize.

The food was already being passed around, and the boys hurried to claim a share. Michele introduced us as we each entered the driftwood circle. The triplets and I were the last to arrive, and as Michele said our names, I noticed a younger boy sitting on the stones near the fire glance up from his phone in interest.

I sat down next to Ketty, and Minami brought us sandwiches with an array of sodas to choose from, while the boy who looked to be the oldest of the visitors rattled off the names of the three others with him. All I caught was that the boy who noticed me was named Phichit. 

Sala let it slip that she and Michele lived on the reservation, which would explain their open friendliness with the visitors. ("Please keep that to yourselves," she'd asked, looking from me, to Minami and the Nishigoris. When Minami asked why, Michele had simply replied, with a furtive look at the newcomers, "Some of us can _afford_ to attend Vaganova, while others cannot.")

It was relaxing to sit with Ketty; she was a restful kind of person to be around - she didn't feel the need to fill every silence with chatter. She left me free to think undisturbed while we ate. I was thinking about how time seemed to flow in St. Petersberg, passing in a blur at times, with single images standing out more than others. At other times, every second was significantly etched in my mind. I didn't know what caused the disturbance, and it was slightly unnerving.

During lunch, the clouds started to advance further, slinking and thickening across the vast blue expanse of sky, darting in front of the sun momentarily to cast long shadows across the beach, blackening the waves. As they finished eating, people started to drift away in twos and threes. Some, including the Nishigoris, walked down to the waves, trying to skip rocks across the choppy surface, or build sandcastles and go on the hunt for seashells. Others were gathering a second expedition to the tide pools.

Madame Ambrose and Ketty went with them, while Michele and Sala headed up to the one shop in the village. Some of the local kids went with them, while others went along on the hike. By the time they had all scattered, I was sitting alone on my driftwood log, with Minami and Yuuko occupying themselves with an I-Pod someone had thought to bring, and three visitors from the reservation perched around the circle, including the boy named Phichit and the boy who had acted as spokesperson.

A few minutes after Ketty left with the hikers, Phichit sauntered over to take her place by my side. He looked eighteen, maybe nineteen, and had short, glossy black hair and choppy bangs. His eyes were lively and bright, set above the high planes of his cheekbones, which still retained some childish roundness. Altogether a rather pretty face. I wasn't romantically interested, nor was I blind. He'd finally unglued his eyes from his phone to smile up at me, wide and friendly.

"You're Yuuri Katsuki, aren't you?" His voice was light and boyishly sweet, though I couldn't place his accent.

It was like the first day of school all over again.

"Yes, I'm Yuuri."

"I'm Phichit Chulanont." He held his hand out in a friendly gesture. "You bought my coach's car."

"Oh," I said, relieved, smiling and shaking the offered hand warmly. "You're one of Celestino's. I probably should remember you."

"Yes, you should," he said cheekily, holding his phone up to his face. "Say cheese!"

He snapped the picture before I was ready, and I was still blinking the flash from my eyes when he proferred the phone so I could take a look. I had a dazed expression; my mouth was open slightly, and the flash had reflected off the lenses of my glasses.

"Aw, tough break," he pouted, deleting the offending picture.

I huffed quietly, shaking my head. I finally remembered Toshiya and Celestino had tried throwing us together during my visits, to keep us busy while they fished. I was much too shy back then, and he was still very friendly and eager, so I was a little intimidated. He'd had long hair back then, but the shorter look was nice, too. Of course, I'd put an end to the fishing trips when I was eleven so I could focus more on my skating.

"So, how do you like the car?" he asked, flipping idly through his phone.

"I love it, it runs great."

"Yeah, but it's really slow," he laughed. "I was so relieved when your dad bought it. Ciao Ciao wouldn't let me get a new one when we had a perfectly good vehicle right there."

"It's not that slow," I objected.

"Have you tried to go over sixty?" He raised a brow my way, looking up from his phone.

"No," I admitted.

"Good. Don't." He grinned.

"It does great in a collision," I offered in my car's defense, grinning back.

"I don't think a Boyevaya could take out that old monster," he agreed with another laugh.

"Wait, if you need another car.." I trailed off, frowning.

"Don't worry, I can probably build my own." He shrugged, eyes falling back to his phone screen.

"You can build cars?" I asked, impressed.

"When I have the time, and parts. You wouldn't happen to know where I could get my hands on one of these, do you?" he asked, holding up the screen of his phone so I could see. Squinting at the tiny text below the picture, I shrugged. I could probably listen to him talk for hours and never get tired of hearing his voice.

"Sorry, I don't know anything about cars." I rubbed the back of my neck sheepishly and adjusted my glasses.

He flashed a brilliant smile, gazing at me in an appraising sort of way. I wasn't the only one who noticed.

"You know Yuuri, Phichit?" Yuuko asked from across the fire, eyeing us keenly from her spot next to Minami, who had looked up at the question.

"We're childhood friends!" he smiled, finally stashing his phone in a pocket.

"Aw, that's sweet," she cooed. I coughed, embarrassed at how much of a mom she was being.

"Yuuri," Minami called, looking from me to Phichit and back again, "I was just telling Yuuko that it was too bad none of the Nikiforovs could come with us today. Didn't you think to invite them?" He sounded genuinely curious, but before I could speak up, someone else beat me to it.

"You mean Doctor Aleksander Nikiforov and his family?" a tall boy with a neat undercut asked. He looked older than Phichit, more muscular and defined. He had a calm, deep voice that I found soothing.

"Yes, do you know them?" Yuuko asked curiously, turning toward him.

"The Nikiforov clan does not come here," he replied softly, but in a tone of finality, closing the subject and ignoring her question.

Minami, trying to win back her attention quickly, asked Yuuko's opinion on a song, and she turned back to him, frowning thoughtfully but distracted once more.

I stared at the boy, taken aback, but he was now looking away toward the dark, snowy forest behind us. He'd said that the Nikiforovs didn't come here, but his tone implied something else - that they weren't _allowed_. His strange demeanor left an impression on me, which I tried to ignore without much success.

"So, is St. Petersberg getting on your nerves yet?" Phichit asked, interrupting my meditation.

"Oh, I'd say that was an understatement." I sighed. He grinned, patting my shoulder.

I was still turning over the brief comment on the Nikiforovs, when a spark of inspiration hit. It was kind of lame, but I didn't have any better ideas. I just hoped Phichit wouldn't hate me for it later.

"Want to, uh.. walk down to the beach with me?" I asked, cringing at the note of hesitancy in my voice.

"Sure!" he hopped up from the log, taking out his phone and motioned for me to follow him.

As we walked across the multicolored stones toward the driftwood seawall, the clouds finally closed ranks across the sky, causing the sea to darken and the temperature to drop even further. I shoved my hands deep in the pockets of my jacket.

"So, how old are you now?" I asked, trying for an attempt at conversation, flashing him a smile.

"I just turned twenty this year," he confessed, chuckling behind a hand at the surprised look on my face.

"Really? I could have sworn you were older."

"I'm just tall for my age," he explained with a shrug.

"Do you come up to St. Petersberg much?" I asked, hoping for a yes. Talking with Phichit seemed to jog more of my memory; he was very much an in the moment type of person who recorded everything on his phone so he would never forget things.

"Ah, not too much," he admitted with a shrug. "But, hey! When I get a car built and ready to go, I can drive around as much as I want." he finished, an easy grin breaking free.

"Who was that other boy Minami and Yuuko were talking to? He seems older than some of the others." I was satisfying my own curiosity while getting to catch up with an old friend. I saw it as a win-win situation.

"That's Otabek, and he's eighteen. He just looks older." Phichit informed me while snapping a picture of the sandcastle the triplets had built earlier.

"What was that he was saying about the doctor's family?" I asked curiously.

"The Nikiforov's? Oh, they're not supposed to come onto the reservation." He was staring down at his phone again, probably editing the picture he took and posting it to Instagram.

"Why not?" It seemed rather strange, and it only confirmed what I thought I'd heard in Otabek's voice.

"Whoops! I'm not supposed to talk about that." He waved a hand idly, though he wasn't looking at me, or his phone.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I was just curious.." I traied off, hanging my head. If he didn't want to talk about it, then I couldn't push him.

I glanced up to find him staring me down, humming thoughtfully, the hand holding his phone crossed across his stomach, other hand to his lips. Perhaps it was my kicked puppy look that made him take pity on me, though it hadn't been my intention. Suddenly, his grey eyes were smoldering, and he grinned.

"Do you like scary stories?" he asked, an ominous hint to his voice.

"Um, I don't _mind_ them," I faltered, unsure where he was going with this.

Phichit strolled to a nearby driftwood tree whose roots stuck out like the attenuated legs of a huge, pale spider. He perched lightly on one of the twisted roots, motioning me to sit beneath him on the body of the tree. I did so, if reluctantly. He stared down at me eagerly, a smile hovering around the edges of his lips. I could see he was going to try and make this good. It wasn't hard to appear interested.

"Man, I can't _believe_ I'm about to spill this kind of tea," he began, tucking his phone away, eyes shining merrily. "Do you know any of our old stories, about where we all came from - the Itelmans, I mean?"

"Not really," I admitted, shaking my head.

"Okay, well get this. There are _lots_ of old legends, some dating back to the Crusades - supposedly, a group of elders hid the entire population of their village in their church basement when the Knights came calling." He smiled, seeming really into the story now. "Another claims that we were created by the raven spirit Kutkh - and the ravens are still our brothers, along with the wolves they loved to trick. It's against tribal law to kill them."

Here, he paused, perhaps for dramatic effect; I leaned forward on my perch to listen more closely.

"Then, there are the stories about the _blood drinkers_." His voice dropped even lower; he was grinning now, thoroughly enjoying himself.

"B-blood drinkers?" I asked, swallowing down my questions for the moment.

"Yes, my dear Yuuri. There are stories of the blood drinkers as old as the raven legends, and some are much more recent. According to legend, my own great-grandfather knew some of them. He was the one who made the treaty that kept them off our land." He rolled his eyes.

"Your great-grandfather?" I encouraged, too hooked to let this go.

"He was a tribal elder, like Ciao Ciao. You see, the blood drinkers are the natural enemy of the wolf - well, not the wolf really, but the wolves that turn into men, like our ancestors. You would call them werewolves."

"Werewolves have enemies?" No doubt I was enraptured by the story, surely that's why he kept going.

"Only one." He held up a forefinger.

I stared at him earnestly, drinking in every word.

"So, get this," Phichit continued, thoroughly enjoying his tale, "the blood drinkers are naturally our enemies. This pack that came to our territory during my great-grandfather's time were different, though. They didn't hunt the way others of their kind did - they weren't supposed to be dangerous to our tribe. So, my great-grandfather made a truce with them. If they promised to stay off our lands, we wouldn't expose them to the white man." He winked.

"If they weren't dangerous, then why..?" I tried to understand without letting on how seriously I was taking the story.

"There's always a risk for humans to be around the blood drinkers, even if they're civilized like this clan was. You never know when they might get too hungry to resist." He waggled his eyebrows, and I snorted.

"What do you mean by 'civilized'?"

"They claimed that they didn't kill humans. They supposedly preyed on animals instead." He leaned back against the tree roots, arms tucked behind his head.

"So, how does this fit in with the Nikiforovs? Are they like the same blood drinkers your great-grandfather met?" I asked, chin tucked in the palms of my hands, elbows leaning on my knees.

"Oh, no." He paused, wagging a finger for dramatic effect. "They're the _same_ ones."

He must have thought the expression on my face was fear inspired by his story. He smiled, totally pleased with himself, and continued.

"There are more of them now, a new girl and a new boy, but the rest are the same. In my great-grandfather's time they already knew of the leader, Aleksander. He'd been here and gone before the white folks had even arrived." He was fighting a smile now.

"What are they?" I finally asked. "What are the blood drinkers? Some kind of demon?"

He smiled darkly.

"Perhaps to your people," he replied in a chilling voice, "but to everyone else, they're called _vampires_."

I blinked, staring out at the rough surf after he answered, not sure what my reaction told him.

"Did I scare you?" he asked, eyes twinkling in delight at the prospect.

"No, you're just very good at telling stories," I complimented, still staring into the waves.

"Pretty wild though, huh? No wonder Ciao Ciao doesn't want us to talk about it to anyone."

"Don't worry, my lips are sealed." I was still absorbing everything he'd said, unable to look at him until I sorted things out in my head.

"Guess I just violated the treaty." He sat up with a shrug, dusting off his pants.

"I'll take it to the grave," I promised, shivering and huddling in my thick coat.

"Seriously though, please don't say anything to your dad. He was pretty mad at Ciao Ciao when he heard that some of us weren't going to the hospital since Doctor Nikiforov stared working there." He scooted down from his high perch, coming to sit next to me on the driftwood bench. 

"Don't worry, I won't." I meant it. I wouldn't be telling a soul.

"So, do you think we're a bunch of superstitious natives or what?" he asked, nudging my shoulder playfully. I still hadn't looked away from the ocean.

I finally turned, shooting him a grateful smile. 

"No, not at all. You have some great stories." I reassured him, nudging him back lightly.

"Thanks, Yuuri," he smiled, digging out his phone. "Selfie?"

I normally didn't take good selfies, but I trusted Phichit's expertise in the art.

"Sure, why not."

We scooted closer together until our shoulders were touching. Phichit opened the camera app on his phone and threw his arm around my shoulder, bringing me closer until our cheeks touched. I blushed, a visceral reaction from being so close to someone else, but smiled regardless when he declared "Say beach!" and pointed the camera at our faces. The flash went off, and then he was leaning away to look at his work. It took him a moment to edit, but when he leaned back over to show me, I laughed.

Phichit's grin was wide and infectious, fingers forming a peace sign over my right shoulder, the snowy forest a stark backdrop. Tiny stars and bubbles littered the edge of the picture, and I realized he must have put a few filters on for aesthetic purposes. (I may not be the best at taking selfies, but I knew how it worked.)

The sound of beach rocks clattering against each other warned us of someone approaching. Our heads snapped up at the same time to see Minami and Yuuko about fifty yards away, walking toward us.

"There you are, Yuuri," Minami called, waving his arm over his head.

"Ooh, is that your boyfriend?" Phichit whispered, hand over his mouth as though scandalized.

"W-what?! N-no!" I spluttered, blushing and caught off guard.

"Oh, you don't swing that way?" he asked, head tilted out of curiosity now.

"I-it's not that," I twiddled my fingers and did not look over at him. "He's underage."

"Ohhhhh, okay. He's kind of cute in a puppy dog sort of way," he added, looking over my shoulder to stare at Minami, totally unabashed. I didn't care if Phichit knew I was gay. He was an old friend, though one I should have kept in contact with over the years, but couldn't. I wouldn't make the same mistake twice. "Can I have your number, Yuuri?" he asked, changing the subject and gesturing with his phone.

"Oh, sure." I was immensely grateful to Phichit, so whatever made him happy, I would be glad to oblige. We exchanged numbers, and my phone buzzed, alerting me to a text. Of course it was from Phichit; I could tell because all he sent was a prayer hands emoji and and a sparkle emoji.

"So, when I get my new car, can I come see you in the city?" he asked, brightening at the very thought.

"Of course," I smiled. I missed being at ease around people, and Phichit definitely made the whole process a lot smoother.

Minami had reached us now, with Yuuko a few paces behind. He looked Phichit up and down, politely curious.

"Have you been here the whole time?" he asked, though I thought it was a little obvious.

"Yeah, Phichit was just telling me some local legends," I volunteered. "It was really interesting."

I smiled at Phichit warmly, and he gave a little bow, complete with sweeping hand gestures.

"That sounds cool," Minami smiled, watching our camaraderie with interest. "We're packing things up - it looks like it'll rain soon."

We all looked up at the increasingly darkening sky. It certainly did look like rain. Possibly sleet if we were _really_ unlucky.

"Okay," I stood slowly, stretching my limbs and shoving my phone in my pocket. "I'm on my way."

"It was nice to see you again, Yuuri!" Phichit grinned, getting to his feet as well. 

"It really was. Next time Toshiya comes down to see Celestino, I'll come, too," I promised.

"I'll hold you to that, I hope you know." he grinned, raising a hand in farewell.

"Thank you," I added earnestly, waving goodbye.

"It was nice meeting all of you, too!" Phichit called as we began the walk back to the car. Minami waved in return, grinning fit to burst.

I pulled up my hood as we navigated the rocks back toward the parking lot. A few drops began to fall, darkening the stones where they landed. When we got back to the cars, the others were already loading everything back in. I gratefully climbed into the passenger seat of Minami's car, gazing out of the window at the coming storm on the way back to his parent's store.

We bid everyone goodbye once we were back at our cars. Madame Ambrose shot me a peculiar look, and I gulped. Smiling serenely, she waved and got into her sleek foreign car, driving out of sight. 

I shook my head, climbing into my car and starting the engine. While the roar quieted to a rumbling purr, I closed my eyes, leaned back on the headrest, and tried very hard not to think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm dying in my own bed tonight, and Phichit Chulanont is to blame. (I loved writing him, and I want to do it again.)
> 
> Notes:
> 
> A Boyevaya is a kind of Russian tank.
> 
> Kamchatka exists, though probably not where I need it to be. Please excuse any inaccuracies for the time being, I really am trying my best. I used a real Itelman legend rather than make up my own. I felt it would be more respectful that way, but that's just me. I could only find the raven story, and since wereravens wouldn't make much sense, I stuck with the werewolf schtick. 
> 
> Only for the purposes of this story, the Itelman are a group of many different tribes that were scattered about the globe, but their homeland remains in Russia. (That's why I mentioned offhandedly that the Crispinos were part of it.)
> 
> My boy Otabek finally shows! Sadly, he won't have much of a role until the New Moon au, but I feel like Sam just fit for him. I will still try and make the otayuris a Thing, even if it may be viewed as #scandalous. (In the sense that it would essentially be a vampire/werewolf relationship, not because of age differences or sexuality.)
> 
> Phichit and Yuuri's friendship is #goals af tbh. I can't wait to write more about them later. <3
> 
> If anymore edits need to be made, it will have to be later today when it's not almost 1am and I'm dying.


	8. Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I hate this chapter. It's 90% internal monologue and I hated writing it.
> 
> But! We get a sneak peek at what I decided to do about the Sparkly Vampires™, cause that shit don't fly with me, fam. I've also taken the whole Vegetarian Vampire thing under advisement, and I'll be changing that up, too. These are Real Fucking Vampires™ ya'll, and I intend to deliver.
> 
> No Victor this chapter, but he makes a slight cameo. No Phichit, either. Pretty much just Yuuri-tachi.
> 
> I hope you still enjoy despite the boring inner monologue that I couldn't avoid or leave out.

I told Toshiya I had a lot of homework to do, and I didn't want anything to eat. This year's World Championship was on TV, and he seemed intent on watching the figure skaters. He saw nothing unusual in my face or tone, so I was left blissfully alone.

Once in my room, I closed the door. There was no way I could face being around more people today, so stopping by the crowded skating rink was a no go. I needed some time to just think, and there was only one option afforded to me.

I put Victor's _Eros_ audition CD into its player, turned the volume up a little, and hit play. The music flowed into the room, the steady flamenco beat helped wash away all thought until all that was left was the feeling put into the dance. I still took it easy, and the dance lacked the usual emotion I put into my performances, but it helped.

It was less than three minutes long, and by the third time through, I was sweating and out of breath. The fourth time through, I could go on no longer. Turning the volume down, I flopped into bed, panting. My glasses had already been placed on the bedside table prior to the exercise, and I curled up against my pillow, eyes falling shut. I was asleep in less than half an hour.

 _I opened my eyes to a familiar place._ Aware in some corner of my consciousness that I was dreaming, I recognized the white light of the forest in winter. I could hear the waves crashing repeatedly against the rocks somewhere just out of sight. I knew that if I found the ocean, I'd be able to see the sun. I was trying to follow the sound, picking my way across the snowy, root-filled terrain when a hand shot out, grabbing my wrist and pulling me back towards the darker part of the forest. Panicked, I turned to find Phichit Chulanont staring up at me with wide, terrified gray eyes.

"Phichit? What's wrong?" I asked, no longer afraid. I had no idea why he looked so frightened as he yanked with all his strength against my resistance. I didn't want to go into the dark, I wanted to bask in the sun.

"Yuuri, you have to run!" he whispered frantically, eyes darting left and right, unable to sit still for even a moment.

"This way, Yuuri!" I recognized Minami's voice calling out of the gloomy heart of the trees, but I couldn't see him anywhere.

"Why?" I asked, still pulling against Phichit's grasp, almost desperate now to find the sun.

With a startled cry, Phichit let go, trembling from head to foot and falling to the forest floor. He writhed in the snow as I watched in horror as the sounds of bones cracking and limbs elongating filled the forest amid the whimpers they caused. Fur erupted from the dark skin, the face stretched and became something inhuman.

"Phichit!" I screamed, but he was gone. In his place stood a large mahogany red wolf with dark gray eyes. The wolf turned its back on me, pointing toward the shore, hackles raised and bristling low growls issuing from between exposed fangs.

"Yuuri, run!" Minami cried out again from behind me, but I didn't turn. I was watching a dark shape coming toward us from the beach.

Victor stepped into the tree line, his skin a dark, pebbled grey where the light hit it, features sharp and defined as though carved from marble, his eyes opaque and glittering dangerously. His hair shone like starlight where the sun hit, throwing prismatic shards of light onto the trunks of trees as he passed them. Holding up a hand, he crooked a finger my way, beckoning me to come closer. The wolf growled at my feet.

I took a step forward, towards Victor. He smiled, teeth sharp and pointed.

"Trust me, Yuuri," he murmured seductively.

I took another step, entranced.

_The wolf launched itself across the space between me and the vampire, fangs bared and aiming for the jugular._

"No!" I cried out, bolting upright.

The light was off now, and I was sitting up in bed, fully dressed, still in my practice gear. I squinted, disoriented, at the clock on my bedside table. I barely made out the blurry red numbers staring back at me. It was 5:30 in the morning.

I groaned, fell back against the pillow, and rolled over onto my face. I was too uncomfortable to go back to sleep, though. I rolled back over, sitting up and shoving off my sweatpants, trying to stay horizontal. My hair felt sticky and unwashed as I ran my fingers through it. Sighing, I shoved my face back into the pillow.

It was no use, of course. My subconscious had dredged up the exact images I'd been trying to avoid. There was nothing for it; I would have to face them sooner or later.

 _First things first_ , I thought, sitting up. _Shower time._

It didn't last nearly as long as I hoped it would. Even after taking the time to blow-dry my hair, I was out of things to do in the bathroom. Wrapping a towel around my waist, I crossed the hall back to my room. I couldn't tell if Toshiya was still asleep, or if he had already left. When I peeked out of the curtain, the Priora was nowhere to be found. Work, or fishing, I guessed.

I dressed slowly in a comfy oversized shirt and a different pair of sweat pants and then made my bed. No sense in putting it off any longer. I went to the desk, powering on the old computer.

Using the internet here was so different than in America or back home in Hasetsu. Even though the modem was only a few years old, connecting still took a few minutes longer than I would have liked. I decided to go grab something to snack on while I waited. 

I ate quickly, washing up when I was done. I strode purposefully back down the hall to my room, closing the door behind me. I realized Toshiya must have been the one to turn my light out and shut the music off before he left, and I was grateful. The silence was suffocating, so I turned the music on once more, lowering the volume until it was just noise in the background.

With a sigh, I turned to my computer, grabbing my glasses and putting them on. Naturally, a few pop-up ads littered the screen. Sitting down in the worn swivel chair, I closed each one out before bringing up my favorite search engine. I shot down another pop-up before typing in just one word. 

_Vampire._

It didn't take much longer than it had to connect before thousands of results littered the page. It made sifting through them all tedious work. Everything from movies and TV shows to role-playing games, underground metal, and gothic cosmetic companies. Everything was, unfortunately, in Cyrillic, so I quickly brought up a translating website in another tab to speed the process along.

I eventually found a promising site - Vampites A - Z. I waited patiently for it to load, shooting down another couple of ads. Finally, it finished. A simple white background with black text appeared, clearly an academic site of some sort. Luckily, it had its own separate translation in English. Two quotes greeted me on the front page:

 _"Throughout the vast shadowy world of ghosts and demons, there is no figure so terrible, no figure so dreaded and abhorred, yet dight with such fearful fascination, as the vampire, who is himself neither ghost nor demon, but yet who partakes the dark natures and possesses the mysterious and terrible qualities of both."_ \-- Rev. Montague Summers

 _"If there is in this world a well-attested account, it is that of the vampires. Nothing is lacking: official reports, affidavits of well-known people, of surgeons, of priests, of magistrates; the judicial proof is most complete. And with all that, who is there who believes in vampires?"_ \-- Rousseau

The rest of the site was an alphabetized listing of all the different myths of vampires held throughout the world. The first I clicked on, the _Danag_ , was a Filipino vampire supposedly responsible for planting taro on the islands long ago. The myth continued that the Danag worked with humans for many years, but the partnership ended one day when a woman cut her finger and a Danag sucked her wound, enjoying the taste so much that it drained her body completely of blood.

I read carefully through the descriptions, looking for anything that sounded familiar, let alone plausible. It seemed that most vampire myths centered around beautiful women as demons and children as victims; they also seemed like constructs created to explain away the high mortality rates for young children, and to give men an excuse for infidelity. I snorted; vilifying women, how typical.

Many of the stories involved bodiless spirits and warnings against improper burials. There wasn't much that sounded like the movies I'd seen in America, and only a very few, like the Hebrew _Estrie_ , and the Polish _Upier_ , who were even preoccupied with drinking blood.

Only three entries really caught my attention: the Romanian _Varacolaci_ , a powerful undead being who could appear as a beautiful, pale-skinned human, the Slovak _Nelapsi_ , a creature so strong and fast it could massacre an entire village in the single hour after midnight, and one other, the _Stregori benefici_. About this last there was only one brief sentence.

_Stregori benefici: An Italian vampire, said to be on the side of goodness, and a mortal enemy of all evil vampires._

It was a relief, that one small entry, the one myth among hundreds that claimed the existence of good vampires.

Overall, there was little that matched Phichit's stories or my own knowledge on the subject. I'd made a list in my head as I'd read and carefully compared it with each myth. Speed, strength, beauty, pale skin, eyes that shift color; and then Phichit's criteria: blood drinkers, enemies of the werewolf, cold-skinned, and immortal. There were very few myths that matched even one factor.

I remembered all the scary movies I'd seen while living in Detroit that were backed up by today's popular media - vampires couldn't come out in the daytime, the sun would burn them to ashes. They slept in coffins all day and came out only at night.

Rolling my eyes, I shut the computer down properly. It had been silly to think I could even find proper mentions on the internet of all places that coincided with local legends. I didn't even believe in the popular media's renditions of the vampire anyway. Coffins, oh _please_. It was all so stupid, sitting in my room and researching vampires of all things. What was wrong with me? I decided that the only one to blame was myself. And maybe Phichit for putting the idea into my head.

I had to get out of the house, but there was nowhere I wanted to go that didn't involve a three hour drive or more. I changed into some proper clothes anyway and pulled on my pair of boots, with no clear destination in mind, and trudged down the hall. I shrugged into a raincoat after a quick look at the weather forecast and left the building.

The skies were overcast but no rain fell. I ignored my car and started east on foot, cutting across the street toward the park. It didn't take long to lose myself in the crowd as I walked. I kept going until I could no longer see our flat. It was a beautiful day in St. Petersberg. Cold and windy, but beautiful. I sloshed through the grass and leftover snow, of which there seemed to be plenty, until I came to the path that lead deeper into the treeline. The sounds of the crowd eventually disappeared until I was finally, blessedly alone on the beaten, puddle-filled path.

I wouldn't risk wandering on my own like this if I didn't know the way back. A little pond, still frozen over, appeared through a gap in the trees, and I headed towards it. I only vaguely knew the names of the trees around me as I walked, and that was because of Toshiya pointing them out to me from the cruiser window in the early days of my childhood. There were many I didn't know, and others I couldn't be sure about because they were still covered in so much snow.

As soon as I made it to the pond, I found a relatively dry spot near the bank and sat down. A stand of trees provided some shelter, and I knew if anyone happened to walk by, they wouldn't be able to see me. A few drops of moisture trickled down from the canopy above, slowly dripping their way back to the earth. It may have been the snow melting, or maybe it had begun to rain after all, it was hard to tell. 

I sighed, staring around at the serene landscape before me. I shouldn't have come here. I should have known, but where else was there to go? The forest path was white and brown and far too much like last night's dream to allow for any peace of mind. Now that there was no longer the sound of my footsteps, the silence was piercing. The birds were quiet, too, and the water drops increased in frequency, so it must be raining. Sure enough, I could make out a faint drizzle hitting the soil before the pond, staining the ground even further.

Here in the trees it was much easier to believe the myths and legends that had embarrassed me indoors. Nothing had changed in this place for many years, and all the stories of a hundred different lands seemed much more likely in this white haze than they had in my clear-cut bedroom.

I focused on the two most vital questions I needed answers to before I even considered thinking about anything else.

First, I had to decide if it was possible that what Phichit had said about the Nikiforovs could be true.

I immediately dismissed it. It was silly and morbid to think about my ballet teacher and his family that way. But, what if it _was_? There was no rational explanation for how I was alive. I again listed the things I'd observed for myself: the incredible speed and strength, the eye color shifting from glacier blue to grey and back again, the inhuman beauty, and the pale, frigid skin. There was more - small things, that registered slowly - how they rarely if ever ate, and the disturbing grace with which they moved.

There was also they way Victor spoke, with unfamiliar cadences and phrases that better fit the style of a turn-of-the-century European novel than that of a twenty-first-century classroom. Yuri had skipped class the day we'd done the glass melting experiment. (Were vampires afraid of fire?) Victor told me to have fun on the beach trip without even asking where we were going, as if he already knew. Speaking of, he seemed to know what everyone around him was thinking.. except for me. He also believed he was a villain, and dangerous to boot.

That settled it. The Nikiforovs _had_ to be vampires.

Well, if not vampires, then they were definitely _something_. Something definitely not human. Whether it was Phichit's _blood drinkers_ , or my own demon theory, Victor Nikiforov was _not_ human. He was something.. more.

That would have to be my answer for now.

That left the most important question of all: what was I going to do if it was true?

If Victor was a vampire, then what should I do? I couldn't involve anyone else. I barely believed it myself; anyone I told would likely have me committed.

Only two options seemed practical. The first was to just go back to how things were before we became friends. I could cancel our plans and go back to ignoring him as much as I was able. To pretend there was an impenetrably thick glass wall between us in the one class where we were forced together. To tell him to leave me alone once and for all. The same would have to be said for Yuri.

Clenching the fabric of my jeans tightly, I rejected that option. I had just started to get used to Victor's presence, and even _liked_ being around him outside of his class. I was even starting to form a soft spot for his perpetually angry little brother. So, that was a no go, then.

I considered option two. I could do nothing different. After all, if he was as dangerous as he believed, he would have tried to hurt me by now, or worse, let that van crush me. If he hadn't acted so quickly, I would be mush under Minami's bumper. Then again, it could have been sheer reflex that had made him act. Even so, if it was just a reflex to save a life, how bad could he honestly be?

No, he had said he couldn't bear it if he let me die in front of him. I had to believe that was true. The look on his face as he'd said it.. he looked as if he would rather have _died_ than let anything like that happen to me. 

There was one thing I was absolutely sure of. The dark Victor in my dream was only a reflection of my fear of the word Phichit had spoken and not the man himself. When I'd screamed out in terror at the wolf's lunge, it wasn't fear for the wolf that brought the cry of "no" to my lips. I was afraid that _Victor_ would be harmed, even as he called to me with sharp fangs and a seductive purr.

It was then I realized just how deeply involved I was. Even though I knew, I could do nothing about the frightening secret I carried. When I thought of Victor, I wanted nothing more than to be his friend, at the very _least_ , for as long as I could.

I'd been so caught up in my thoughts, I hadn't even realized the sky had darkened further, the rain a continued patter on the forest floor. Jolted from my thoughts, I rose, shivering, from my spot. The path leading off the clearing was still there, wide and inviting, spreading out in a straight line leading out of the trees. I followed it quickly, pulling my hood up. I soon found the crowd, which had dwindled considerably since I was last there, and was suddenly thankful for the rain. I made my way quickly back to the flat, the promise of warmth and dry socks too tempting to resist.

It was only noon when I got back. Since I was staying indoors, I changed back into my long sleeved shirt and sweats. It didn't take much to focus on my task for the day: tackling a paper on the Cold War and Russia's subsequent involvement that was due Wednesday. I settled into outlining a rough draft, more content than I'd felt since Thursday afternoon, if I was being honest with myself.

Decisions usually came easy to me, and once they were made, I tended to dread the consequences, only feeling relieved when things went off without a hitch. Sometimes, they were tainted with uncertainty, like my decision to come to St. Petersberg. I was more than okay with this newest decision, though.

The rest of my day was quiet and productive - I finished my paper before eight. Toshiya had been fishing, and came home with a large catch. I made a mental note to pick up a recipe book for fish while I was in Moscow next week. I couldn't feel afraid at the thought - anxious, yes, that was a given - but not afraid. The anxiety was no different than what I'd felt before my walk with Phichit Chulanont. 

Speaking of, I had a couple of unanswered texts I needed to take care of before dinner. Phichit's replies were lightning fast, and when I asked how he could shoot off texts so quickly, he'd sent laughing emojis and told me 'practice makes perfect' and that I would be just as quick at it one day. Well, we'll see.

I slept dreamlessly that night, exhausted from beginning my day so early and sleeping so poorly the night before.

***

I awoke for the second time since arriving in St. Petersberg, to the bright golden light of a sunny day. I stumbled to the window, stunned to see there was hardly a cloud in the sky, and those there were just fleecy little cotton puffs that couldn't possibly carry any rain. Opening the window, thankful it didn't stick despite not being opened in who knows how long, I leaned on the window sill, taking in the cool air. It was hardly windy, but a soft breeze made the hair dance around my cheeks, and I sighed, content. 

Toshiya was just finishing breakfast when I entered the kitchen, and he picked up on my good mood immediately.

"It's a nice day today, isn't it?" he commented.

"Yes," I agreed, smiling.

He smiled back, brown eyes crinkling around the edges. When Toshiya smiled, it was easy to see why he and my mother had jumped into an early marriage. Most of the responsible yet young romantic he'd been in those days had faded with time, as had the straight black hair I'd inherited from him, now greying about the edges. When my father smiled, I could see a little of the man who had married my mother when she was just two years younger than I was now.

I ate breakfast, a bit more cheerful than usual. Toshiya called out a goodbye, and I faintly heard the Priora pull away from the building. I hesitated on my way out the door, hand on my thick brown coat. It would just be tempting fate to leave it home. With a sigh, I folded it over my arm and stepped out into the brightest light I'd seen in months.

***

I was one of the first ones to school; I hadn't even checked the clock in my hurry to get outside. I parked and headed inside, making for one of the benches in the front waiting area. My homework was finished - the product of a slow social life - but there were a few math problems I wasn't sure I had right. I took out my book and began to go through them again, double checking the answers one by one.

"Yuuri!" I heard someone call. It sounded like Minami. 

I glanced around to realize that the academy had become populated while I'd been sitting there, concentrating on my math. Everyone was wearing light coats, though it couldn't be over fifty. Minami had opened the front door and was coming toward me, wearing a pair of thick khaki pants and flannel shirt, waving.

"Hey, Minami," I called, waving back, unable to be half-hearted on a day like this.

He stood by and waited patiently as I gathered my things, packing them in my duffel before shouldering it and walking off towards our first lesson of the day, French. He seemed delighted to see me, and I was glad some things hadn't changed.

"Great day, isn't it?" he asked, shooting me a toothy grin.

"Yeah, it's my kind of day," I agreed.

"What did you do yesterday?" His tone was laced with its usual curiosity, so I felt no qualms about answering honestly.

"I mostly worked on my essay, but I got some practice in, too." I didn't add that I was also finished with it.

"Isn't that due Thursday?" he asked, raising a brow.

"Um, Wednesday, I think."

"Wednesday?" He frowned. "That's not good! Did you finish already?"

"Yeah," I felt kind of bad when I saw his face fall.

"I guess I need to work on that tonight, then," he frowned, biting his lip.

I gave him a reassuring pat on the arm as we entered the room and headed to our customary seats.

\---

When I saw Yuuko in Math, she was bubbling with enthusiasm. She, Ketty, and Sala were going to Novgorod tonight to go dress shopping for the dance, and she invited me to come, too. When I asked why, she said they all needed a male's opinion, and I was least likely to make a big deal of it. I was indecisive. It would be nice to get out of town with some friends, but who knew what I would be doing tonight. I was happy about the sunlight, but that wasn't the only reason for my good mood.

I told her I would have to talk with Toshiya about it first before I gave the go ahead.

She talked of nothing but the dance until the bell rang for the start of class, and picked the conversation back up once the bell rang again at the end of class as though she had not been interrupted. I tried keeping up with her to the best of my ability on the way to lunch. I only realized I was eager to see Victor, and the rest of the Nikiforov clan, once we walked into the cafeteria. I wanted another chance to compare them with the new suspicions I'd formed over the weekend. I didn't expect to be invited to sit with him again, but I would be content to study them from afar.

My eyes swept routinely over to the Nikiforov's table, only to realize with a start that it was completely empty. I wondered if Victor might be sitting with the rest of the teachers, but when I glanced up at the staff table, he was nowhere to be found. I sighed, just a little disappointed. Oh well, there was always tomorrow.

Our class had let out later than usual, so when we got to our table, everyone else had already gotten their food and were waiting for us to arrive. Ketty asked a few quiet questions about the Cold War paper, which I was only too happy to help with. She also invited me to go with the girls tonight, and this time I accepted. I would still tell Toshiya later, but I was still an adult and free to go where I pleased.

\---

As Victor was absent, Ms. Okukawa was left in charge of his class again, but my name was not called to audition for which I was immensely grateful. At most, that meant I had another day of practice ahead of me before I was called to give my audition. After class, I asked to stay behind after Physics so she could teach me how to move in more feminine ways. There was something my routine was lacking. I had a brainwave while practicing the few lines of dialogue I had Saturday evening. They seemed more geared towards a man than a woman, and I wanted my performance to reflect that. She agreed, and I set off for my final lesson of the day, more determined than ever to make Victor proud of his student.

When I entered Physics, Yuri Plisetsky was not there, nor did he arrive just as the bell rang for the start of class. I'd used my time in the library on Friday to complete the assignment Mister Oda had given Yuri and I as an alternative to the glass blowing lab, and he was pretty pleased with my work. Apparently, Yuri had turned his in on Friday, so he was off the hook as well.

The lesson passed rather slowly. Today, Mister Oda expanded on the lecture he gave before the lab on Thursday, and reiterated the importance of safety measures when operating any kind of heavy machinery that involved the use of fire. I shuffled uncomfortably, tugging on the bandages still wrapped around my hand. They had been changed over the weekend, and I would be free to take them off in a few day's time.

I was glad to leave campus after the practice session with Ms. Okukawa. She was a firm teacher, and I kept at it until I had my part memorized to perfection. I was exhausted, but pleased. I walked into the flat that evening before Toshiya got home from work to find the phone ringing. It was Yuuko; one of the triplets had gotten sick, but she assured me that everything would be fine, and rescheduled our trip for tomorrow night instead.

That didn't leave me much to do, sadly. I had fish marinating for dinner, and vegetables to peel and cook, both which would be served on a bed of white rice. I spent a focused half hour on homework, but then I finished that as well. I checked my e-mail, reading the backlog of messages from Mari and my mother. I sighed and typed out a quick response to both of them.

_Mom & Mari,_

_Sorry I haven't responded lately, I've been out. ヾ( ๑´д`๑)ﾂ I went to the beach with some friends, and I had to write a paper. It was sunny outside today, can you believe it? I have an audition to practice for, but it's for a grade. I'll let you know how it goes. I love you both!_

_\- Yuuri_

I decided to kill a couple hours by taking a nap, sinking gratefully into my mattress. I was asleep within twenty minutes. I don't even remember falling unconscious, but when I awoke to the sound of Toshiya's Priora pulling into its parking space, I realized with a jolt that the last of the sunlight that had warmed my back as I drifted off was nowhere to be found. The sky outside was dark, the streetlights casting stark bars of light across my bedroom floor.

Groaning, I hopped out of bed and grabbed my glasses, hurrying to get a start on dinner. Toshiya was hanging up his gun belt and toeing off his boots when I came into the room.

"Sorry, Dad, dinner's not ready yet. I took a nap not long after I got home." I stifled a yawn while getting some oil to heat up on the stove.

"That's all right, Yuuri. I take it you had a long day?" he asked, walking down the hall to his room to change out of uniform.

"Something like that," I called, rubbing the last vestiges of sleep from my eyes and getting to work.

\---

I watched TV with Toshiya after dinner, just for something to do. There wasn't anything on I wanted to watch, and our pickings were slim, as everything was in Russian. We ended up watching a mindless sitcom that neither of us really enjoyed. He seemed happy to be doing something together for a change, and it felt good to make him happy.

"Dad," I said during a commercial break, "Yuuko, Ketty, and Sala are going to look at dresses for the dance tomorrow night in Novgorod, and they wanted my opinion. Do you mind if I go with them?"

"Yuuko Nishigori?" he asked after a moment's contemplation.

"Yes, and Ketty Abelashvili and Sala Crispino." I sighed as I gave him the details.

"I thought you weren't going?" he asked, a little confused.

"No, I'm not. They wanted a guy's opinion, but Minami had plans, and Takeshi is watching the triplets." I squirmed, suddenly uncomfortable.

"Well, all right." He seemed reluctant at first, but now that he'd warmed up to the idea, I sighed in relief. "It is a school night, though." he cautioned.

"We'll leave right after school, so we can get back early. You'll be okay for dinner, right?"

"Yuuri, I fed myself for twenty-three years before you got here," he chuckled.

"Well, I'll leave some things out for sushi in the fridge, okay?"

He agreed, and that was the extent of our conversation for the night.

***

It was sunny again when I awoke the next morning. There was no sense in repressing the good mood I found myself in. Maybe it was all the sunshine; whatever it was, I hope it lasted. I dressed for the warmer weather in a navy blue, long sleeved button up, white scarf, fingerless black gloves, and thick black slacks. It was something I'd wear in the dead of winter in Hasetsu.

I planned my arrival at school so that I made it to my first lesson just on time. I circled the full lot, looking for a space, at the same time scanning for the silver blue Audi that did not appear to be there. I parked in the last row and hurried to French, arriving breathless just before the bell rang. 

It was the same as yesterday. I couldn't help but have hope that the Nikiforovs would be there, only to feel it squashed as I searched the lunchroom, eyes falling on their empty table. The seat beside me was equally as vacant in Physics, but I shrugged. No sense in dwelling on it. They would be back eventually, after all. I had not been called for my audition again today, but we were running out of students now who had yet to be called, myself among them. 

The Novgorod scheme was back on again for tonight, for which I was glad. Axel, the one who'd gotten sick, was doing much better now, according to Yuuko. I was bolstered by this good news. I was almost anxious to get out of town so I could stop searching the lunchroom every time I walked in, hoping to find the Nikiforovs. It would be good for me, and I would do my best to make sure the girls had a good time. Maybe I would buy something for myself, too. I refused to think I might be shopping alone in Moscow this weekend. Surely Victor wouldn't cancel our plans without at least telling me first?

After lessons, Yuuko followed me home in her old white Gaz so that I could leave my books and car at home. I brushed through my hair quickly while I was inside, slicking it back with a swift swipe of gel so it stayed off my forehead for a change. I left a note for Toshiya on the table, explaining again where to find dinner, grabbed my wallet, and ran out to join Yuuko. We went to Ketty's place next, and she was waiting for us. So was Sala when we went to pick her up on the reservation. Michele nodded to us from the front door, and his piercing violet gaze did not let up until we turned the corner of the next street. 

I felt a giddy sense of excitement wash over me as we actually drove out of the city and onto the winding highway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanna write Victor again, he's so much fun. Phichit, too. u_u
> 
> Did I mention how much I hated writing this chapter? 
> 
> Notes: 
> 
> Novgorod is pretty much right next to St. Petersberg, and the only reason I didn't have them just straight up go around the city is because Yuuri is (mostly) familiar with it y now, and I needed him to be in an unfamiliar place for next chapter. For those of you who know what's coming, pray for me.
> 
> I said there were to be no sparkly vampires, and I meant it. Only #hardcore Real Vampires™ here, folks. Incidentally, if you're familiar with the song Emperor's New Clothes by Panic! at the Disco, that's where I got the descriptions for Victor's skin from. (No horns or pointed chin, I'm afraid.)
> 
> I now know that Kamchatka is wayyyy on the other side of Russia, BUT FOR THE PURPOSES OF THIS FIC, it will be located just outside of St. Petersberg. Makes it convenient for the story. (I finally got the chance to bookmark a map of Russia, so that will help.)
> 
> The werewolf transformations were too quick in the movies. That shit is _painful_ , so I'm gonna do my best to slow it down the first few times just so that point gets across, and then I'll skim over it once New Moon hits. 
> 
> Next chapter: Victor to the rescue!


	9. To Novgorod

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri gets into a bit of trouble on the dark side of town, when he's saved by a knight in shining armor.
> 
> Only this knight isn't really a knight, and he drives a sleek silvery blue Audi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys! Sorry this has taken some time to get out. I was working on updating another fic, which took me four days and 13k words later.. I worked on this one for fives hours today, and a few yesterday after my job interview. (Cross your fingers!!)
> 
> So, we finally get to see more of Victor. Don't get sick of him too soon, he'll be around more often from now on. I hope I kept everyone in character, that's pretty much my constant worry with this AU. 
> 
> There is so much dialogue this chapter, ugh. I've been working on the next chapter to make up for not updating this past week, so expect that out in a couple days. (Even more dialogue... kill me now, pls.)
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! <3

Yuuko drove a little faster than the _starshina_ , so we made it to Novgorod by five. It had been awhile since I'd gone out with friends. Even though I was surrounded by pretty girls, I was excited rather than anxious. We flipped between radio stations, never settling on one for more than a couple songs, chatting about our classes and hobbies and just generally getting to know each other. 

Ketty was excited to be going to the dance with Minami; Sala would have preferred someone other than her brother, but she didn't feel like getting into an argument with him about it. Novgorod was beautiful in the bright evening light. Yuuko and Ketty knew it well, so we didn't waste time visiting any of the tourist attractions. Sala and I stared out of the window, intrigued. Yuuko drove straight to the big department store in town, a few streets over from the local police station.

The dance was billed as semi-formal, and we weren't exactly sure what that meant. All three girls seemed surprised, even disbelieving when I told them I'd never been to a dance before - either back in Detroit, or Hasetsu. 

"You didn't go with a girlfriend, or something?" Yuuko asked as we walked through the front doors of the store, glad to be out of the cold.

"Really," I tried to convince her without going into detail about the crippling anxiety. "I've never had a girlfriend, or a.. boyfriend before. I didn't go out much."

"Why not?" Sala demanded.

"No one ever asked me," I muttered, shuffling from foot to foot.

"I did," she pointed out, raising a brow.

"So did Minami, before he asked me," Ketty said, shrugging.

We were in the women's adult section now, scanning the racks for formal dresses.

"Oh, yeah, Minami was thinking of asking you to the senior's division prom." Yuuko piped up, examining a cute strapless white number that flowed elegantly to ankle level.

" _Excuse_ me?" I spluttered, trying to keep my voice low. "Are you _serious_?"

"Well, I was too, but," Sala admitted with a shrug. "We were both going to ask - as friends, of course."

I groaned, ducking behind another rack to hide my blushing face. Ketty chuckled, coming to pat me on the back.

"It's okay to be popular, Yuuri," she soothed, reaching out to examine a short, glittery black dress with transparent lace.

I was silent, still lost in shock that was quickly turning to nerves. We'd found the dress racks, and now there was work to be done. I could dwell on my weird social life later.

The dress selection was rather large, so all three of them found a few things to try on. I sat on a low chair just outside the dressing room, right by a tall, three-way mirror, trying to control my nerves. 

Yuuko was torn between two - one a long, strapless, basic black number, the other a knee-length sunshine yellow with white trim and spaghetti straps. I encouraged her to go with the yellow; it suited her eyes, and brought out the honey tints in her light brown hair. Ketty chose a lovely rose-colored dress that came down to mid-thigh and draped over her shorter frame to accentuate her curves. Sala went with a floaty lilac dress that made her look like she was draped in candy floss. I complimented them all generously and helped by returning the rejects to their racks. 

I spotted the short, lacy black dress with the sparkling crystal collar Ketty had looked at and formulated an idea. Thinking on my audition piece, if I got the part of _Eros_ , I could chose how to design the costume myself. Victor didn't like to reuse previous concepts, and he preferred to let his students' individuality shine alongside their talent on the stage. It was the first time I'd thought about him all evening, but something about the dress just screamed _Eros_ to me. Digging out my phone, I took multiple pictures, front and back, and saved them to show Victor later - assuming I would get the part. (It didn't hurt to hope.)

The whole process took less than two hours, but I expected it to go much longer. We headed over to the shoes and accessories next. While they tried things on, I watched, providing opinions when they asked for them. I wasn't in the mood to shop for myself, though I did still need new blades for my skates. Since I doubted anything like that could be found here, I would simply have to wait until my trip to Moscow.

"Ketty?" I began, hesitant to interrupt while she was trying on a pair of red strappy heels. Yuuko and Sala had drifted over to the jewelry counter, so we were left alone.

"Yes?" She held her leg out, twisting her ankle to get a better view of the shoe.

I chickened out, swallowing past a lump in my throat. 

"I like those."

"I think I'll get them, even though they'll never match anything but the one dress," she mused.

"Why not the black ones?" I asked, referring to a pair of simple black heels with an open toe and straps. "They're more practical, and black goes with everything." I added encouragingly.

She smiled, taking the red ones off to put them back in their box and on the shelf, grabbing the black ones and slipping them on.

"Um, Ketty," I tried again, determined to get this over with. She looked up curiously, so I continued. "Is it normal for the... Nikiforovs to be out of school a lot?" I kept my eyes on the shoes, failing miserably in an attempt to be nonchalant.

"Yes, when the weather is good they go backpacking all the time - even the doctor. They're all real outdoorsy," she told me quietly, examining her shoes. She didn't ask any questions, and for that I was grateful. Yuuko and Sala surely would have asked hundreds. I was beginning to really like Ketty.

"Ah, I see." I let the subject drop as Yuuko and Sala returned to show us the rhinestone jewelry they'd found to match their shoes. 

We planned to go to dinner at a little Indian restaurant near the edge of the shopping district, but the dress shopping hadn't taken as long as we'd expected. The girls were going to take their clothes back to the car and then walk down to the bay. I told them I would meet them at the restaurant in an hour - I wanted to look for a skating or dancing supply store. They were all willing to come with me, but I encouraged them to go have fun - they didn't know how preoccupied I could get when surrounded by skates and _pointe_ shoes. They walked off to the car chattering happily, and I headed in the direction Yuuko pointed out.

I had little trouble finding the store, but it wasn't what I was looking for. Everything looked gently used, which was all fine and well, but I needed brand new blades for my skates. After talking briefly with the attendant at the counter - a nice older gentleman with greying dark hair - he told me that this was a kind of thrift store. I remembered seeing a few in Detroit, so it made sense. Leaving the store empty handed a few minutes later, I decided to look for a better alternative.

I meandered through the streets, minding the post-workday traffic, hoping I was headed toward downtown. I tried to pay attention to where I was going so I could retrace my steps later. It was only when I saw someone's blue Audi parked along the street did I remember my plans for Saturday. With Victor. My ballet instructor. He still hadn't shown, so I was unable to ask if he wanted to cancel after all.

 _Silly, forgetful vampire_ , I thought.

I trudged along in a southerly direction, toward some glass-fronted shops that looked promising. When I got to them, they turned out to be a repair shop and a vacant space. I still had too much time left to myself before I had to go look for the girls, and I wanted to do a bit of exploring before then. I hadn't been to other cities in Russia other than St. Petersberg, so I wanted to become familiar with my new home country.

As I crossed another road, I started to realize that I was going in the wrong direction. What foot traffic there was had been going north, and it looked like the buildings here were mostly warehouses. I decided to turn east at the next corner, loop around after a few blocks, and then try my luck on a different street on my way back towards the police station.

A group of four men turned around the corner I was heading for, dressed lightly in coats and stained jeans, despite the weather. Definitely native Russians. As they approached me, I realized they couldn't be too much older than I was. They were joking loudly among themselves, laughing raucously and gesturing wildly. I scooted as far to the inside of the sidewalk as I could to give them room, keeping my head down and walking swiftly.

"Hey, there!" one of them called in Russian as they passed. He had to be talking to me, as no one else was around. I glanced up automatically, only to wish I hadn't. Two of them had paused on the sidewalk, the other two were slowing down. The closest, a tall, burly man in his late twenties, seemed to be the one who had spoken. He was wearing a light parka open over a stained long sleeved t-shirt, jeans, and snow boots. He took half a step toward me.

Heart pounding, I nodded in his direction before picking up the pace, walking faster towards the corner. I could hear them laughing behind me.

"Hey, wait!" one of them called after me again, but I kept my head down and rounded the corner with a sigh of relief.

I found myself on a sidewalk leading past the backs of several dark warehouses, each with large bay doors for unloading trucks, padlocked for the night. The south side of the street had no sidewalk, only a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire protecting some kind of engine parts storage yard. I'd wandered too far past the parts of Novgorod that I, as a guest, was intended to see. It was getting dark, the clouds finally returning, piling up on the western horizon to create an early sunset. The eastern sky was still relatively clear but greying, shot through with streaks of pink and orange. I'd left my jacket in the car, and a sudden gust of wind made me shiver, crossing my arms tightly over my chest. A single van passed me, and then the road was empty.

The sky suddenly darkened further, and, as I glanced over my shoulder to size up the approaching cloud, I realized with a start that two men were walking twenty feet behind me.

They were from the same group I'd passed at the corner, though neither was the burly one who'd spoken to me. I turned forward at once, quickening my stride. A chill that had nothing to do with the weather made me shiver again. I had no bag or anything other than my wallet with me. I didn't have much money, just a few rubles, nothing worth taking. A small, frightened voice in the back of my head told me these guys could be more than just thieves.

I listened intently to their quiet footsteps, which was a sharp contrast to the boisterous noise they'd been making earlier. It didn't sound like they were speeding up or getting any closer, but I did not breathe easier because of that. I wasn't sure if they were actually following me or not, but I still kept my guard up, just in case. I continued to walk as quickly as I could without resorting to running, focusing on the right-hand turn that was only a few yards ahead of me now. I could still hear them, staying as far back as they had before. A dark blue car turned onto the street from the south and drove quickly past me. I briefly thought of trying to stop the car and ask for help, but I hesitated, still unsure if I was actually being followed, and then it was too late.

I finally reached the corner, but a swift glance revealed that it was only a blind drive to the back of another building. Making a hasty decision, I dashed across the narrow drive and back onto the sidewalk. The street ended at the next corner, where there was a stop sign. I concentrated on the faint footsteps behind me, deciding whether or not to run. They sounded farther back now, and I was confident that I could out run them. I had pretty much lost all the weight I needed to, and nothing was stopping my flight, aside from my own anxiety. I risked a quick peek over my shoulder, and they were maybe forty feet back now. They were both staring at me.

It seemed to take forever to reach the corner. I kept a steady pace, the men behind me falling back more and more with every step. I doubted that they were sorry to have spooked me. To them, I'm just some strange foreigner encroaching on their territory. I saw two cars going north pass the intersection I was heading for, and I exhaled, relieved. There would be more people around once I got off this deserted street. I hurried around the corner, eager to be gone.

I blinked, skidding to a stop.

The street was lined on both sides by blank, doorless, windowless walls. I could see in the distance, two intersections down, streetlamps, cars, and more pedestrians, but they were all too far away. Lounging against the western building, midway down the street, were the other two men from the group, both watching with dangerous smiles as I froze on the sidewalk, unable to move.

I realized then that I wasn't being followed. I was being _herded_. 

I only paused for a second, but it felt like a very long time. I turned, darting to the other side of the road. I had a sinking feeling that it was a wasted attempt. The footsteps behind me were louder now.

"Ah, there you are!" The booming accented voice of the burly man shattered the intense quiet and made me jump. In the gathering darkness, it seemed like he was looking past me.

" _да_ ," a voice called loudly from behind me, startling me into hurrying down the street. "We just took a little detour."

I had to slow down now, as I was closing the distance between me and the lounging pair too quickly. I stood on the balls of my feet, getting ready to flee.

The stocky man shrugged away from the wall as I warily came to a stop. On a whim, I stepped off the curb, making for the middle of the street.

"Stay away from me," I warned, fists clenched tightly at my sides.

"He must be new around here. Asian from the looks of him," another called, and the stocky man sneered.

"He probably can't even understand us. Silly foreigner, straying too far from the path," he crooned, steadily coming closer and closer.

I could understand them, all right. I'd been learning to speak their language since I was young. Besides, even if I couldn't, their scornful tone was unmistakable.

I braced myself, tensing up to flee, waiting for an opening. I wasn't a fighter, and knew very little self-defense. I once heard somewhere that fighting was just another form of dancing, but at that moment, I couldn't think of any way my dancing skills could be useful. I could always jam my knee into their groin, but there were four of them. If I took one out, another would have the chance to grab me, and then I really would be in danger.

Just as I was about to come to a decision, headlights flew around the corner, the car almost hitting the stocky one, forcing him to jump back toward the sidewalk. I turned and fled towards it - this car was going to stop, or hit me trying. Unexpectedly, the silvery blue car fishtailed around, skidding to a stop with the passenger door open just a few feet from me.

"Get in," a lilting, accented voice commanded.

As soon as I heard his voice, I knew I was safe, even before I had gotten off the street. I jumped into the seat, slamming the door shut behind me.

It was dark in the car, as no light had come on when I opened the door, and I could barely see his face in the glow from the dashboard. The tires squealed as he spun around to face north, accelerating too quickly, swerving toward the stunned men on the street. I caught a glimpse of them diving for the sidewalk as we straightened out and sped toward the city limits.

"Put on your seatbelt, please." It was not a command, but it didn't seem like a request, either. Realizing I was clutching the seat with both hands, I quickly complied; the snap of the connecting belt was loud in the dark interior. He took a sharp left, racing forward, blowing through several stop signs without a pause.

I finally relaxed, and I idly wondered where we were headed. Out of the city, no doubt. I glanced shyly at Victor's face in the dim light, waiting for my breath to return to normal. Hs sharp profile cut through the darkness, and I realized his expression bordered on murderous anger.

"Are you okay?" I asked, surprised by how calm I sounded despite the situation.

"Not at the moment." His tone was clipped, formal. 

I got the hint. I sat in silence, sneaking glances at his profile while his blazing eyes stared ahead. Eventually, the car came to a sudden stop. I tried to get my barings, but it was now too dark to see anything other than the vague outline of dark trees crowding the roadside. We weren't in town anymore.

"Yuuri?" he asked, his voice now softer, but controlled.

"Yes, Master Nikiforov?"

He scowled, inhaling deeply and exhaling all at once.

"You may show me the proper respect at the academy, but when we are in private, please use my given name," he murmured, still not looking my way.

"Um, yes.. Victor?" I tasted the word carefully, deciding I liked the sound of it. He seemed to relax, a minute dip in his shoulders the only indication.

"Are you all right?" He still did not turn to look at me, the cold fury plain on his face.

"Yes," I whispered.

"Can you please distract me?"

"Okay, but.. how?" The question caught me off guard, and I wasn't sure how to go about doing it.

He popped his neck, reaching back to rub rough circles in the flesh at the base of his skull.

"Just chatter about whatever you like until I calm down," he clarified, closing his eyes and bowing his head, continuing to rub at the back of his neck.

"Um," I wracked my brain for something trivial. "I might flee the country and escape all the pretty girls who keep trying to ask me out?"

His eyes were still tightly closed, but his lips twitched as though fighting a smile.

"Why?"

"Minami and Sala both asked me to prom - as just friends, but I don't feel like having Michele toss me halfway across the academy grounds, and I don't have the heart to tell Sala I'm into guys." I plowed on, swallowing thickly at Victor's raised eyebrow. "Um, and Minami keeps trying to make amends for when he almost ran me over, and he thinks the senior division prom is the answer. I figure if I flee the country, then he can't keep trying to make it up to me.." I babbled on, heedless of accidentally coming out to my teacher.

"I heard about that," he muttered, sounding a bit more composed.

"You _did_?" I asked in disbelief, my previous anxiety flaring. "I was only kidding about leaving. I don't really _want_ to. I like it here, and you've been a great teacher." I added, mostly for his benefit.

Victor sighed, lowering his hands and finally opening his eyes.

"Better?" I asked tentatively, aware he could bite my head off at any given moment.

"A little, thank you."

I nodded, waiting for him to speak again. Leaning back against the head rest, he stared at the ceiling of the car, eyes half-lidded, hands clenched in tight fists by his thighs.

"What's wrong?" I asked in a hushed whisper, afraid of incurring his wrath.

"And I thought Yura had a temper," he muttered, lips pursed. "I'm glad he is not here, otherwise I would feel inclined to turn around and hunt down those.." He trailed off, looking out the window and struggling to maintain his composure. "At least," he continued, "that's what I'm trying to convince myself."

"Oh. I'm sorry." My apology seemed inadequate, but it was the only response I could think of.

"It's not your fault, Yuuri," he sighed, closing his eyes again, a slim white hand coming up to brush the silver fringe that had fallen across his eye.

We sat in silence again. Glancing at the clock on the dashboard, I noticed it was already past six-thirty.

"Yuuko, Sala, and Ketty will be worried," I murmured. "I was supposed to meet them."

He started the engine without another word, turning around smoothly and speeding back toward town. Streetlights flashed by the window, and we were back in the city in no time at all. We were still going too fast, weaving through the cars on their way home from work with ease. He parallel-parked against the curb in a space I would have thought much too small for the Audi, but he slid in effortlessly in one try. I looked out the window to see the lights of a small Indian restaurant. Yuuko, Sala, and Ketty were just leaving, pacing anxiously away from us.

"How did you know where..?" I began, but he didn't answer, so I just shook my head. I heard the door open and turned to see him getting out.

"Um, Victor?" I asked, uncertain what he was going to do.

"May I take you to dinner?" he asked, smiling lightly, but it did not reach his eyes. The familiar heart shape was absent, and I frowned. It looked fake, a show he put on for my benefit rather than a genuine response.

"I.. okay?" My stomach rumbled, and I flushed, embarrassed.

He gazed down at me fondly, and the smile that curled at his lips softened into a semblance of a heart. Stepping out of the car, he closed the door sharply, not quite slamming it. I fumbled with my seatbelt, hastening to follow. He waited patiently for me on the sidewalk, speaking up before I could.

"Will you go stop the girls before I have to track them down as well? I would rather not run into those men again, as I don't think I could restrain myself a second time."

I shivered at the implications.

"Yuuko! Sala! Ketty!" I yelled after them, waving when they turned. They rushed back to me, the pronounced relief on all their faces simultaneously changing to surprise as they saw who I was standing next to. They hesitated a few feet from us.

"Where have you been, Yuuri?" Yuuko asked, the mother in her showing.

"I got lost, sorry," I admitted sheepishly. "But, I ran into Master Nikiforov." I gestured toward him.

"Would it be all right if I joined you?" he asked in his normal accented, musical voice. They seemed confused and I couldn't blame them.

"Ah, okay," Yuuko answered, shifting from foot to foot.

"Um, actually, Yuuri, we already ate while we were waiting. Sorry," Ketty confessed.

"That's okay, I'm not that hungry." I shrugged.

"You should eat something to keep your strength up." Victor's voice was low and almost kind, but I could tell he was still bothered about earlier. He looked up at Yuuko and spoke a little louder. "Do you mind if I drive Yuuri home tonight? That way you won't have to wait while he gets something to eat."

"Are you okay with that, Yuuri?" Yuuko asked, sending a thoughtful look my way. She was trying to gauge my expression to see if this was something I wanted, and I felt grateful to her. I nodded, smiling. I had so many questions to ask my erstwhile savior that I could not ask in front of present company. I was also kind of hungry, despite my earlier protest.

"Okay," Sala was quicker than the others, grabbing Yuuko and Ketty each by the hand and steering them over to Yuuko's car, which was parked a little ways away. "See you tomorrow, Yuuri! Master Nikiforov."

As they got in, Sala turned and waved, her face eager with curiosity. I waved back, waiting for them to drive away before I turned to face him.

"You really don't have to, you know," I insisted, fidgeting as I gazed up at his face to gauge his expression. He tilted his head to regard me curiously.

"Humor me?"

He walked to the door of the restaurant, holding it open for me with a hopeful smile. I still had the option to refuse if I wanted, but my stomach gave another urgent rumble, so I guess that answered that question. I walked past him into the restaurant with a resigned sigh.

Thankfully, the restaurant wasn't too crowded as it was the off-season. The host was a beautiful woman about my age, and I understood the look in her eyes as she assessed Victor. She welcomed him a little more warmly than necessary. It didn't bother me, I couldn't really blame her. She was about my height, dark skinned, with black, chest length hair and bright hazel eyes.

"A table for two, please?" Victor asked, shooting her that fake smile I'd come to recognize as his 'public face'. I couldn't tell if he was aiming to flirt or not, but whatever his intentions, they had the desired effect. I saw her eyes flicker to me and then away, apparently satisfied by my ordinary appearance and the cautious, no-contact space Victor kept between us. She led us to a table big enough for four in the center of the most crowded area of the dining floor. I frowned, but kept my anxiety to myself. I didn't want to appear weak in front of Victor if I could help it.

I was about to sit, but Victor shook his head.

"Perhaps there's something more _private_ available?" he insisted quietly to the host. He smoothly handed her a tip, and I blinked, taken aback. I'd never seen anyone refuse a table except in old American movies.

"Sure." She sounded as surprised as I felt. She turned and led us around a partition to a small ring of booths - all of them were empty. "How's this?"

"Perfect." He flashed his fake, gleaming smile, dazing her momentarily.

"Um," she shook her head, blinking, "your server will be right out." She walked away, flustered.

"It's not fair to do that to people, you know," I criticized, taking the seat across from him.

"Do what?" He asked, fake smile disappearing to be replaced with a confused expression.

"You know.. dazzle people. She's probably hyperventilating in the kitchen right now."

It's what I would have done, but I neglected to mention that. He still seemed confused, so I elaborated. 

"What, you don't know the effect you have on people?" I asked, dubious.

"I dazzle people?" He tilted his head to one side, regarding me curiously.

"Haven't you noticed? Not everyone gets their way as easily as you seem to."

"Do I dazzle _you_ , Yuuri?" he asked, ignoring my question.

I blinked, caught off guard. Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I decided to go with the truth. Maybe he'd see it as endearing instead of straight up mortifying.

"Well, yes," I admitted with only the slightest hint of hesitation in my voice.

Fortunately, our server arrived, looking expectant. The hostess had definitely had a word with her behind the scenes, and this new girl didn't look disappointed. She flipped a strand of short black hair behind one ear and smiled warmly.

"Hello, my name is Seras, and I'll be your server tonight. What can I get you to drink?" She spoke to both of us equally, but I didn't miss that she was making eyes at Victor, who looked to me expectantly.

"Um, green tea." It sounded more like a question than a statement.

"Two green teas," Victor corrected.

"Okay, I'll be right back with that," she assured, tossing another warm smile Victor's way. He was watching me, so he missed it entirely.

"Um, what is it?" I asked after she left, his eyes staying fixed on my face.

"How are you feeling?" he asked gently.

"I'm fine," I replied, surprised by his intensity.

"You don't feel dizzy, sick, cold..?" he trailed off, studying my face carefully.

"Er, should I?"

He chuckled at my puzzled tone.

"Well, I thought you might go into shock," he explained, lips quirking into that perfect heart-shaped grin.

"I don't think that will happen," I muttered. "I'm good at repressing things."

He frowned, but thankfully chose not to comment.

"Regardless, I'll feel better when you have some sugar and food in you."

Right on cue, the waitress appeard with our drinks and a basket of bread rolls, placing them on the table and shooting each of us a friendly smile.

"Are you ready to order?" she asked, eyes flicking over to Victor.

"Yuuri?" he asked, gesturing for me to go first. 

"Oh, um," I picked the first thing I saw on the menu that looked familiar. "I'll have the mild curry."

"And you?" she turned back to Victor, jotting down my order.

"Nothing for me," he smiled apologetically, and this time, his smile was genuine. I didn't think he would get anything, and I was right.

"Let me know if you change your mind." Her smile had not wavered, but Victor only had eyes for me, and she left, a little deflated.

I picked up my mug of tea, minding the temperature, and took an experimental sip. It was sweet, but not too sweet, and I welcomed the warmth, drinking more deeply after it had cooled further. I hadn't realized how thirsty I was until I finished the whole mug. Victor pushed his own mug toward me, and I shot him a sheepish smile.

"Thank you," I murmured, still thirsty. The warmth from the tea was seeping into my chest, and I sighed, eagerly clinging to the mug. It wasn't cold, but I was nervous now, and maybe it showed.

"Are you cold?" he asked, frowning.

"Not really," I explained, tipping the mug to my lips again.

"Don't you have a jacket?" He sounded disapproving.

"Um, yes." I glanced at the empty bench next to me. "Oh, I left it in Yuuko's car," I realized with a wince.

Victor shrugged out of his jacket, holding it out as an offering. Puzzled, I took it, setting down my half-empty tea mug.

"Thank you," I murmured, sliding my arms into the sleeves. It was red, white, and blue, with RUSSIA emblazoned in all caps across the shoulder blades. _It was a skating jacket._ I knew immediately, because it had a faded logo sewn onto the sleeves. It looked fairly old, and I felt honored to be wearing Victor's old skating jacket. He must have competed some time in his youth, but I was sure to have heard of him before if that was the case. Maybe Doctor Nikiforov had been a competitive skater, and had passed the jacket on to his adopted son. That made slightly more sense, so I didn't question it. However, I did make a mental note to ask him about it later.

Underneath the jacket, Victor wore a simple black, long-sleeved turtleneck sweater. It fit him snugly, emphasizing the hidden muscle underneath. He was a professional dance teacher, so I didn't dare go there. His jacket was cold, like mine was after leaving it out in the hall in winter time. It smelled nice, and I inhaled curiously, trying to identify the scent. It wasn't cologne, but I filed it away to compare with other things later. The sleeves were just a little too long; I shoved them back so I could free my hands.

"That shade of blue looks nice on you, Yuuri." His compliment caught me off guard, and I looked away, flushing slightly.

"T-thanks," I hid behind my tea mug so I wouldn't keep stuttering.

He nudged the bread basket toward me.

"I'm not going to go into shock or anything," I mumbled in protest, but I grabbed a roll anyway to appease him.

"I'm sorry, I keep thinking you will. You don't even look too shaken." He seemed unsettled. He gazed thoughtfully at me, and I noticed how dark his eyes were today, darker than I'd ever seen them. They were a gorgeous mix of sea and sky, and sparkled like crystals in the sun. 

"I feel... safe with you," I confessed, hesitating at the look on his face.

He finally smiled again, a sad tilt of his lips, shaking his head.

"Oh, this is more complicated than I thought," he murmured quietly, almost too soft for me to hear.

I picked up my bread roll, breaking off a piece and popping it into my mouth. I wondered if it would be okay to question him now. I was intensely curious, eager for answers.

"You're usually in a better mood when your eyes are darker," I commented, trying to distract him from whatever thought had left him in a somber mood.

"Hm?" He blinked, startled out of his thoughts.

"You're um.. cranky when your eyes get really light, even grey. I kind of.. expect it then." I went on hesitantly. "I have a theory about it."

"Oh, more theories?" He raised an eyebrow, tone playful.

"Yes." I chewed on another piece of bread, trying to look indifferent.

"Well, I hope you were more creative this time.. or are you still set on calling me Superman?" he teased, lips twitching as though fighting a smile. "As terribly flattering as that is, I am no comic book hero." He was amused, so I deemed it safe to continue the conversation.

"Well, no. No more Superman," I confessed, "but I didn't come up with it on my own, either."

"Oh?" he prompted.

At that moment, the waitress strode around the partition with my food. I realized we'd been unconsciously leaning toward each other across the table, because we both straightened up as she approached. She set the dish in front of me - it looked pretty good, and I could smell the spices from here - and turned back to Victor.

"Did you change your mind?" she asked. "Isn't there anything I can get you?" I wish he'd cut down on the dazzling, even if it was accidental. There was no point in the poor girl getting her hopes up.

"No, thank you, but some more tea would be lovely." He gestured with a long pale hand to the empty mugs in front of me.

"Sure." She removed the empty mugs and walked away.

"You were saying?" he asked, encouraging me to continue where I'd left off.

"Um, I'll tell you in the car. If.." I paused, glancing up at him through my lashes.

"There are conditions?" He raised an eyebrow, playful tone making a comeback.

"Well, I have some questions." I picked up my spoon, mixing the rice, meat, and sauce together but not eating just yet.

"Yes, I thought you might."

The waitress came back with two more green teas. She set them down without a word this time, and left again.

I picked up a mug, blowing off the steam to take a small sip. 

"All right, go ahead." He sounded resigned, as though finally admitting defeat.

I started with the easiest one I could think of.

"Why are you in Novgorod?"

He looked down, folding his hands together slowly on the table. His eyes flickered up to me from under his pale lashes, a faint smile quirking at the edges of his lips.

"I'm sorry, I can't answer that one just yet."

"But that's the easiest one," I objected.

"Please ask me another."

I looked down, sighing softly. I couldn't exactly force him to tell me, so I took a bite of curry while I thought of something else. It was a little too spicy for my tastes, but the burn felt good rather than painful. I swallowed, taking another sip of tea before looking up.

"Okay, I've got one." I was still a bit embarrassed, so I decided to take an off-handed approach. "Let's just say that, hypothetically, someone.. could know what people are thinking, read minds and such - with a few exceptions."

"Just _one_ exception," he corrected, "hypothetically."

"All right, just one exception, then." I was thrilled that he was playing along, but I strived to remain casual. "How does that work? Are there any limitations? How would.. that someone.. find someone else at exactly the right time? How would he know they were in trouble?" I wondered if I was asking too much at once.

"Hypothetically?" he asked.

"Of course."

"Well, if.. that someone.." he began, an amused lilt to his voice.

"Let's call him 'Edward'," I suggested.

"Edward, then." He smiled wryly and continued. "If Edward had been paying attention, the timing wouldn't have needed to be quite so exact." He shook his head, chuckling softly. "I didn't think you would get into trouble in a town this small, you know. You would have devastated their crime rate statistics for a decade, at least."

"We were speaking of a hypothetical case," I pouted, taking another bite of curry.

He laughed lightly, his eyes warm.

"Yes, I'm sorry," he relented. "Shall we call you 'Jacob'?"

"How did you know?" I asked, unable to help the wry tilt of my lips as I took another sip of tea. I realized I was leaning toward him again.

He seemed to be wavering, locked in some internal dilemma. His eyes focused on mine, and I guessed he was making the decision on whether or not to tell the truth.

"You can trust me, you know," I murmured. I set down my spoon, giving him my undivided attention. He gazed at me thoughtfully, eyes simmering. One of his hands reached forward to touch mine, but I instinctively pulled it back, just out of reach. He pulled his hand back with a frown and sighed, running it through his silver tresses.

"I don't know if I have a choice anymore." He was almost whispering now. "I was wrong about you, Yuuri. You're much more observant than I gave you credit for."

"I thought you were right all the time," I blurted without thinking.

"I used to be." He shook his head again. "I was wrong about you on one other thing as well. You're not a magnet for accidents - that's not quite correct. You are what my sister Mila likes to call a 'trouble magnet'. If there is anything seriously dangerous within ten miles, it will invariably find you."

"Do you put yourself into that category?" I asked on a whim.

"Absolutely." He seemed hesitant to answer, but once the word was out of his mouth, he seemed almost relieved.

He swallowed thickly, stretching his hand across the table again. This time, I did not pull away. He brushed the back of my hand shyly with the tips of his fingers before taking it off the tablecloth, giving it a gentle squeeze. His skin was cold and hard, like marble.

"T-thank you," I stammered, voice fervent with gratitude. "That's twice now." I gave his hand a little squeeze in return. The bandages had finally come off a few days ago, and now the back of it had a slightly raised scar that spread from the bottom knuckle of my thumb to the first knuckle of my middle finger. His thumb stroked lightly over the scar, and I shivered.

"Let's not make it three, all right?" His face softened, eyes crinkling at the corners and lips curving into a slight heart shape.

There he goes, actually dazzling me for a change. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. He eventually removed his hand, placing both of his under the table and leaning towards me.

"I was on my way to pick something up for Mila," he admitted, speaking in a rush. "Then I remembered she'd heard from Sala that you would be going with the girls on a shopping trip, so I decided to drop by and say hello." He paused, staring - probably wondering why I was smiling. "After earlier, I realized just how much I wanted to keep you alive." He frowned, brows furrowing - likely remembering what he almost wanted to do.

"Did you ever think that I wasn't supposed to.. survive that van? That maybe you saving me just sort of.. delayed the inevitable?" I speculated, distracting myself.

" _No_ , Yuuri," his voice was firm, and I winced. He sighed, softening his tone before continuing. "Please don't think badly of me for saving you. I just.. when I met you, I didn't ever think that I would.. find someone like you. I messed up, of course." He snorted, disgusted with himself.

I felt a slight spasm of fear at his words. I remembered his stormy grey glare of that first day, trembling from head to foot as I handed him my slip to sign. Looking back on it now, I decided to put that behind us and start afresh. There was no denying the sense of safety I felt with him, and by the time he looked up to meet my eyes, there was no trace of fear or anxiety in them.

"You remember?" he asked, voice a hoarse whisper.

"Yes." I felt calm despite Victor's demeanor.

"Yet here you are, right in front of me." There was a trace of awe in his voice, as though he couldn't quite believe it himself. The feeling was mutual.

"Yes, I'm here.. _because_ of you." I paused. "Because somehow you knew how to find me today..?" I prompted gently.

He bit his lower lip, assessing me. His eyes flashed down to my nearly full plate, then back up to me.

"Will you eat while I talk?" he asked.

I nodded, scooping up another spoonful of curry and popping it in my mouth.

"It's harder than it should be to keep track of where you are. Usually, I can find someone very easily, once I've heard their mind before." He looked at me anxiously, and I realized I had frozen. I swallowed, spooning another bite of curry into my mouth.

"When I got here, after I decided to find you and say hello, I was trying to find Sala. I was a little worried you would find trouble, even in Novgorod, so I didn't notice when you took off on your own at first. When I realized you weren't with her anymore, I went looking for you at the thrift store I saw in her mind. I could tell that you had gone south after peeking into the old man's head, and I knew you would have to turn around soon. I was just going to wait for you, having already picked up what I came to get for Mila, randomly searching through thoughts of people on the street - to see if anyone had noticed you, of course. I had no real reason to be worried, but.. I was strangely anxious.."

He was lost in thought, staring past me, seeing things I couldn't imagine.

"I began driving in circles, still, er.. listening. The sun was finally setting, and I was about to get out to try looking for you on foot. That was when--" He stopped, pursing his lips together in sudden anger. He took a deep breath, making an effort to calm himself.

"Then what?" I whispered. He continued to stare over my head.

"I heard what they were thinking," he growled, his upper lip curling slightly back over his teeth. "I saw your face in his mind." He suddenly leaned forward, one elbow appearing on the table, a hand covering his eyes. The movement was so swift, it startled me.

"It was very... _hard_ \- harder than I would have imagined - for me to simply take you away, and leave them.. alive." His voice was muffled by his arm. "I could have let you go with the girls and just left, but I was afraid to be alone, knowing what I might do if I went to look for them," he admitted in a whisper.

I sat quietly, dazed, hands folded in my lap and leaning weakly against the back of my chair. He still had his face in his hand, and was so still, he could have been carved from the stone his skin resembled.

Finally, he looked up, crystalline eyes seeking mine, full of his own questions.

"Are you ready to go home?" he asked softly, as though afraid of spooking me.

"Yes, I'm ready," I replied, grateful for the hour-long ride home. I wasn't quite ready to say goodbye to him yet.

The waitress appeared as if she'd been summoned - or watching.

"How are you guys doing?" she asked Victor.

"We're ready for the check, thank you." His voice was quiet, rougher, still reflecting the strain of our conversation. It seemed to confuse her. He looked up, waiting.

"O-of course," she stuttered. "Here you are." She pulled a small leather folder from the front pocket of her black apron and handed it to him.

There was already a bill in his hand. He slipped it into the folder, handing it right back.

"Keep the change," he smiled, standing. I hastened to mimic him, getting in one last sip of tea.

"You two have a nice evening." She smiled invitingly at him.

He didn't look away from me as we thanked her. My heart skipped ahead in its rhythm; I was honestly flattered.

He walked close beside me to the door, careful not to touch me this time. I sighed, and Victor seemed to hear me. He glanced down at me curiously, all traces of his earlier anger gone. I stared at the sidewalk, grateful that he didn't seem to be able to read my thoughts.

Victor opened the passenger door, holding it for me as I stepped in, shutting it softly behind me. I watched him walk around the front of the car, admiring the easy grace he possessed. I probably should have been used to that by now, as we were both dancers, but I wasn't. I had a feeling Victor wasn't the kind of person anyone got used to easily.

Once inside the car, he started the engine, turning the heater on high. It had gotten very cold, and I guessed the good weather was at an end. I was warm in his jacket, though, once more inhaling its scent and just taking it all in.

Victor pulled out into traffic, apparently without a glance, flipping around to head toward the freeway.

"Now," he said significantly, "it's your turn, Yuuri."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Victor wants to believe he is good, ya'll, and I wanna give that to him.
> 
> Notes:
> 
> The play is Coming, I just need ideas. Anyone got any?
> 
> Yuuri is the Dancing Queen. Young and sweet, only 23. Also kind of a nerd.
> 
> I think Yuuri would remain calm and keep his head in a situation like this. He would be scared, yes, who wouldn't be? He's no coward, my son has great inner strength. I'm such a proud parent...
> 
> Victor was justifiably angry. They were going to hurt his favorite student. That's a BIG no no. Do Not anger the vampire. (Regardless of how he may feel for Yuuri, anyone laying a finger on one of his students would be a huge mistake.)
> 
> Do they have thrift stores in Russia? Well, they do now.
> 
> Victor is gonna be a Good Boyfriend™ and ask Yuuri before he does anything. Well, they're not dating _yet_ , but y'know. No gross manipulative shit here, folks. (Well, he won't manipulate anyone on purpose, and it won't be Yuuri.)
> 
> If there's fanart somewhere of Yuuri wearing Victor's Russia jacket, hook me up, fam. I'm thirsty..
> 
> Yes, I used Those Names, and I am Not Sorry.
> 
> I figured an Indian restaurant would be a more plausible option than Italian. Also, I think it's something Yuuri might be familiar with.
> 
> Not entirely sure what skinship means, but I figure that's just Victor's Touching Thing. Anyway, it happened. Finally. We're getting there, folks. Slowly, but surely.


	10. Theories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri finds out a lot more about his ballet teacher. 
> 
> Who he kinda sorta has a crush on now.
> 
> Whoops..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys!! two chapters in two days? wow, i have nothing better to do!!
> 
> This chapter is 90% dialogue, god help us all...
> 
> Please enjoy this weird attempt at character development.

"Can I ask one more?" I pleaded as Victor accelerated much too quickly down the quiet street. He didn't seem to be paying attention to the road.

He sighed, smiling faintly.

"All right, one more," he agreed. 

"Well.. you said you knew I'd gone into the thrift store, and that I had gone south from there. I was just wondering how you knew that."

He looked away, deliberating.

"I thought we were past all the evasions," I coaxed. He almost smiled.

"All right. I followed your scent." He stared at the road, giving me time to compose my face. I couldn't think of an acceptable response to that, but I filed it carefully away for future study. I tried to refocus. I wasn't ready for him to be finished yet, not now that he was finally explaining things.

"You didn't answer one of my first questions.." I trailed off, stalling.

"Which one?" He glanced over at me curiously.

"How does your mind reading work? Can you read anybody's mind, anywhere? How do you do it? Can the rest of your family...?" I felt silly asking so many questions at once, but I was so unbelievably _curious_ , I couldn't stop the flood from escaping.

"That's more than one," he teased. 

I intertwined my fingers and gazed at him, waiting.

"No, it's just me. I can't hear anyone, anywhere. I have to be fairly close. The more familiar someone's... 'voice' is, the farther away I can hear them. Even then, no more than a few miles." He paused thoughtfully. "It's a little like being in a huge hall filled with people, everyone talking at once. It's just a hum - a buzzing of voices in the background. Until I focus on one voice, then what they're thinking becomes clear. Most of the time, I tune it all out, as it can be very distracting. It's easier to seem.. _normal_ ," he frowned as he said the word, "when I'm not accidentally answering someone's thoughts rather than their words."

"Why do you think you can't hear me?" I asked curiously.

He glanced my way, sizing me up.

"I don't know," he murmured. "The only guess I have is that maybe your mind doesn't work the same way the rest of theirs do. Like your thoughts are on an AM frequency, and I'm only getting FM." He smiled, though not in a mocking fashion.

"My mind doesn't work right? I'm a freak?" The words bothered me more than they should. I'd always suspected there was something wrong with me, and it was embarrassing to have it confirmed.

"No, Yuuri. I didn't mean it like that." He sighed, shaking his head and gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. "I hear _voices_ in my head, what does that make _me_?" When I didn't answer, he reached over, brushing his knuckles along the back of my hand. The motion was soothing, and I managed a tiny smile. "Don't worry, it's just a theory..." he trailed off, only to focus on me again. "Which brings us back to you."

I sighed. Where did I even begin?

"Aren't we past all the evasions now?" he reminded me softly.

I looked away, trying to find the words, only to notice the speedometer.

"Um, Victor.." I murmured, eyes wide.

"What's wrong?" He glanced my way, but the car didn't decelerate.

"You're, um. Going one hundred miles an hour." My voice did not rise above a whisper, even though I'd just blandly stated the obvious. I shot a quick glance out of the window, but it was too dark to see much. The road was only visible in the long patch of white from the headlights. The forest along both sides of the road was like a black wall - as hard as a wall of steel if we veered off the road at this speed.

"It's all right, Yuuri." He patted my knee to reassure me, still not slowing.

"How come you're in such a hurry?" I tried to raise the volume of my voice a little, and managed to succeed.

"I always drive like this. It's fun." He turned a heart-shaped smile my way.

"Please keep your eyes on the road." I swallowed, trying to tame my anxiety. It was one thing to build momentum for a jump on the ice rink; it was another thing entirely to speed unnecessarily down a dark road.

"I've never had an accident, Yuuri. I've never even gotten a ticket." His voice was soft and soothing. He took his hand off my knee to tap the side of his head. "I have a built-in radar detector, after all."

"I-I guess." I shuffled, uncomfortable. "Toshiya is a cop, though. He raised me to abide by the traffic laws. I'd hate for you to turn us into an Audi pretzel around a tree trunk, only for you to get up and walk away."

"But you could not." He sighed and I watched the needle gradually drift toward eighty. "I really _am_ sorry. Is that better?"

"Just about." He really did seem sorry, so I let it go. On the surface, I was calm, but underneath, my anxiety was having a field day. I took steady, even breaths to calm myself, and it eventually worked. 

"I don't usually drive so slowly, but for you, I will." He was pouting, like a boy whose toy car had been taken from him just as he was having fun.

"This is _slow_?"

"Well, for me it is, but enough of that," his voice was light as he glanced my way again. "I'd like to hear your newest theory."

Oh, right. I gnawed on my lower lip, uncertain. He gazed down at me fondly, something I was coming to expect now, his oceanic eyes gentle.

"I won't laugh," he promised.

"I'm more concerned about you being angry with me."

"I won't be. What, is it that bad?"

"Um, kind of?" I fidgeted.

He waited patiently. I looked down at my hands, so I couldn't see his expression.

"Go ahead, Yuuri." His voice was calm, so I took it as a good sign to keep going.

"I don't really know where to start," I admitted.

"Hm, well.. why don't you start at the beginning? You said you didn't come up with this on your own."

"No, I didn't."

"What got you started - a book? A movie? A play?" he probed.

"No, it was Saturday, at the beach." I risked a glance up at his face. He seemed puzzled.

"I ran into an old friend - Phichit Chulanont," I continued. "His coach and Toshiya have been friends since I was a baby."

He still looked confused, so I sighed.

"His coach is one of the Itelman elders." I watched him carefully. His confused expression froze. "We went for a walk, and he was telling me some old legends - trying to scare me, I think. He told me one..." I hesitated.

"Go on," he encouraged.

"About vampires." I realized my voice was hoarse and cleared it quickly. I couldn't look at his face now, but I heard him sigh.

"Ah, I see. Did you immediately think of me?" He was still calm, so that was good.

"No. He, um.. mentioned your family."

He fell silent, staring out at the road. I was worried about how he might think of Phichit, and I didn't want to put him in the line of fire.

"He just thought it was a silly ghost story," I said quickly. "He didn't expect me to think anything of it." It didn't seem like enough; I had to tell him the full story. "I asked him to tell me, though. He didn't want to."

"Why?" he asked, curious now.

"Minami was asking me why I didn't invite you." He chuckled, and I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. "He invited Madame Ambrose, so maybe he thought I might ask you." I clarified.

"Oh? I don't often see her out of the academy," he mused, then seemed to snap out of it. "I'm sorry, please continue."

"A younger boy from the tribe said your family didn't go to the reservation, only it sounded like he meant something different. So, I asked Phichit to take a walk with me, and he told me," I admitted, hanging my head.

He hummed thoughtfully, and I looked up, curious. He was staring ahead at the road again.

"Well, I'd have liked to see your face when he told you." He shook his head, silver fringe dancing.

I flushed, turning to look out the window.

"What did you do then?" he asked after a minute.

"I did some research on the internet."

"Is that what convinced you?" His tone was light and teasing once more, which was probably why I kept talking.

"No, nothing really fit. Most of it was kind of silly. Then I.." I stopped.

"Then what?" he prompted gently.

"I decided that.. it didn't matter to me what you were." I whispered.

"It.. didn't matter?" His tone made me look up. He looked incredulous, mouth agape and staring at me.

"No," I murmured. "It doesn't matter to me what you are."

"So, you don't.. _care_ if I'm not human? If I'm a monster?" he asked, swallowing thickly.

"No. I don't think you're a monster, either."

His shoulders slumped and his head dipped towards his chest.

"Are you angry?" I sighed, not waiting for an answer. "I shouldn't have said anything."

"No," his voice was thick with emotion, and when he finally looked up, his eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "Thank you, Yuuri. I'd rather you always tell me what you're thinking, even if it is.. " he trailed off, unable to continue. Taking a deep breath and wiping the corners of his eyes, his smile was radiant when he turned back to me.

"So, I was wrong?" I was almost disappointed, but his reaction to my simple statement caught me off guard. I got the sudden urge to hug him, but refrained. For one, he was still my teacher, and two, he was speeding down the highway. Who knew what reaction that might yield.

"Well, it's like you said, isn't it? 'It doesn't matter'," he quoted, sniffing quietly.

"Wait, I'm _right_?" I stared, eyes wide.

 _"Does_ it matter?" he repeated quietly.

"No." I took a deep breath. "But I _am_ curious." My voice, at least, was composed.

"What are you curious about?" He sat up straight, hands loosely gripping the wheel. 

_Here goes nothing_ , I thought.

"How old are you?"

He winced, and I regretted the question immediately. I forgot how sensitive he seemed about his age.

"Twenty-seven," he answered glumly.

"That's not old," I assured him quickly. "But.. how long have you _been_ twenty-seven?"

"A while," he admitted with a snort and upward twitch of his lips.

"That's not so bad." I smiled, pleased with his continued honesty. He stared at me with watchful eyes, much as he had when he thought I might go into shock. My smile grew wider in encouragement, and he smiled slightly in return.

"Um, don't laugh, but.. how can you come out during the daytime?"

"Silly myth," he chuckled anyway, but I was not deterred.

"Burned by the sun?" I asked, hesitant.

"After a fashion, but not the way you're thinking of."

"Sleeping in coffins?" I ventured.

"Yura tried once, but no. Another myth." He hesitated a moment, a peculiar note entering his voice. "I can't sleep."

"At all?" I blinked, amazed. That took a moment to absorb fully.

"Never," he murmured. He turned to look at me, a wistful expression on his face. His bright cerulean eyes held mine, and we stared at each other until he sighed and looked away.

"You haven't asked me the most important question yet." His voice was quiet, controlled. Not angry or cold, just cautious.

"Er, which one?" I blinked, still slightly dazed.

"You've yet to ask me about my.. diet." He was trying to be delicate.

"Oh," I murmured. "that."

"Yes, that." He sighed. "I thought you would want to know if I drank blood."

"Well, Phichit said something about that.." I trailed off, unsure if I should go there.

"Oh? What did he say?" he asked, curious now.

"He said you didn't... kill people. He said your family wasn't supposed to be dangerous because you only killed animals."

"He said we weren't dangerous?" He seemed interested, less pensive, so I kept going.

"Well, not exactly. He said you weren't _supposed_ to be dangerous. The Itelmans still didn't want you on their land, just in case."

He was staring straight ahead now, but I couldn't tell if he was watching the road or not.

"So, he was right? About not killing people?" I kept my voice even, watching for a reaction.

"Ah, the Itelmans have such long memories," he murmured, smiling.

I nodded, taking that as confirmation.

"Well, they're right to keep their distance from us. We are still dangerous." His tone was light, but I could see the seriousness in his gaze.

"I don't understand." It was taking me a little while to catch up and absorb everything.

"We try," he explained slowly. "My father teaches us rigid self-control by having us feed from animals first. Their blood isn't as satisfying, and doesn't always quell the thirst for long. Once we've mastered the impulse not to kill, we.. 'graduate' to drinking human blood. We're usually very good at what we do, only taking as much as the human can afford to give. Sometimes we make mistakes, of course. For example, allowing myself to be alone with you for long periods of time."

"If you wanted to.. drink my blood," I began, tasting the words as they left my mouth. They felt unsatisfying, but I kept going anyway. "I think you would have done it that first day."

"As I said, rigid self-control," he murmured.

We fell silent, watching the headlights twist with the curves of the road. Regardless of what Victor told me, he'd had plenty of chances to hurt me, and he refused. I still doubted he would ever hurt me, even though my logic was kind of flimsy. He wanted to be friends, so I would trust him to keep that legendary self-control at all times. I was aware of our time slipping away too quickly, like the black road beneath us, and I was worried we might not get to spend this much time together again. I had more questions, and I didn't want to waste another minute in silence.

"Can you tell me more?" I asked, if only to hear his voice again.

"What more do you want to know?" He snapped out of whatever thoughts had been plaguing him, turning his attention back to me.

"Why did you kill animals instead of people first?" I asked, wracking my brain for anything he had yet to fully explain.

"I don't _want_ to kill people to sustain myself," he whispered. "I don't want to be seen as a monster."

"But animals aren't enough," I clarified, repeating what he'd said a minute ago.

"Well, it keeps us strong enough that we _can_ resist human blood if we wanted. I'd compare it to preferring dark chocolate over milk chocolate." His eyes narrowed slightly; if I hadn't been watching his face, I would have missed it. "Sometimes, it can be more difficult to resist than others."

"Is it very difficult for you now?" I asked, wary.

"Not really." He'd taken a moment to marshal his thoughts before answering.

"You're not thirsty now, though," I stated confidently.

"Oh? Why do you think so?" Now he seemed amused, genuinely curious about my sudden confidence.

"Well, your eyes. I have a theory about that. They get lighter whenever you get thirsty. Right now, they're dark, but bright and shining."

"You _are_ observant, aren't you?" He chuckled.

I nodded, committing his laugh to memory. It was a soothing sound, like warm tea and honey, and it put me at ease like nothing else had.

"Was that what you did with Georgi this weekend? Find someone to.. feed off of?" The term sounded strange, but I couldn't find another way to put it just then.

"Yes." He paused for a second, as if deciding on whether or not he should continue. "I didn't really want to leave, but it was necessary. It's much easier to be around you when I'm not thirsty."

"Why didn't you want to leave?"

"I wanted.. to watch you dance." His eyes were gentle, carrying a note of intensity I was coming to recognize. He seemed slightly flustered, as though admitting it were embarrassing. "But, I suppose that can wait a little longer. I was a little worried about you, as well." He paused, shooting me a knowing glance before continuing. "That's why I asked you not to fall in the ocean last Thursday. I was distracted all weekend, worrying about you. Honestly, after what happened tonight, I'm a little surprised you made it through the whole weekend unscathed."

"I'm not as clumsy as I seem," I sniffed, mildly offended.

"No, you're rather graceful, but I still worry," I cleared my throat, cheeks flushing at the sudden compliment, but he just smiled and kept going. "I suppose it could have been much worse - and that possibility ate away at me the entire time I was away. It was a very long three days. I really got on Georgi's nerves." He smiled ruefully, and I pictured the look on his brother's face while Victor waxed on and on about how worried he was. What I imagined was priceless.

"Three days? I thought you got back today." If he'd only been gone that long, why didn't he show back up at the academy?

"No, we got back on Sunday."

"Then how come none of you were at the academy?" I almost pouted, remembering my eager search of the cafeteria those two days of his absence.

"Well, you asked if the sun hurt me, and it doesn't. That doesn't mean I can just go out in sunlight, though. At least not where anyone can see."

"Why not?" I was terribly curious now, and all sorts of scenarios popped into my head.

"I can show you some time, as long as you promise not to scream." His lips twitched downwards, and I had to wonder just what happened when the sunlight hit his skin that would make me scream.

"I promise." It couldn't be as bad as he was making it out to be, surely.

"Were you worried about me?" He asked after a moment, tone playful.

"Well, kinda," I flushed, fidgeting. I really needed a 'Don't Say Embarrassing Things Out Loud to Your Teacher/Crush' filter. I was still kind of sorting my feelings out, but there was _something_ there. I knew that much, at least.

"Oh, Yuuri," he groaned, eyes straight ahead. "This shouldn't be happening."

"What? Did I say something wrong?" I didn't understand his response.

A soft sigh left his lips, and he turned those crystalline blue eyes my way.

"What do you want me to be to you, Yuuri? A teacher? A brother?" I blinked, opening my mouth to reject both of those things. "A lover perhaps?"

I nearly jumped out of my seat. I spluttered, waving my hands about and trying to compose a response. His silver head tilted to the side, waiting patiently.

"N-no, Victor! I just want you to be yourself!"

His eyes widened, a heart-shaped smile spreading across his face. Sure I was still blushing, I took a minute to calm my racing heart.

"What are you thinking?" he asked in a whisper.

I swallowed, shrugging. I was already pretty embarrassed and didn't need to dig the hole any deeper.

"I'm sorry, Yuuri." He seemed genuine, so I nodded, waving it off. 

The darkness slipped by us in silence before Victor broke it once more.

"I guess it's because of what I am, hm?"

"I told you that it didn't matter what you were." I blinked, confused. "It's just.." I bit my lip, staring down at the gloved hands in my lap. "You're my teacher, so even if I did.. _like_ you.. we couldn't.." I couldn't finish the sentence. I polished the lenses of my glasses on the hem of my shirt just so I wouldn't have to look at his face.

"Is _that_ all that's stopping you?" he asked, clearly amused.

Putting my glasses back on with a huff, I nodded, a quick dip of the chin, trying to mimic his unnatural grace.

"Well, we'll figure something out." He sounded so confident, it was hard not to believe him. "Can you tell me something, though?"

"Um, sure."

"What were you thinking tonight, just before I came around the corner? I couldn't really understand your expression. You looked scared, but also like you were trying to decide something."

"I was contemplating shoving my knee in the big guy's groin and taking off down the street." I thought of the burly man with a surge of fear and hate.

"That's very brave of you," he commented. "You probably could have outrun them, too, with stamina like yours."

"Probably," I agreed.

"Did you think about yelling for help at all?"

"Not really," I admitted. My mind had been on other things at that moment. He shook his head.

"I feel like I really am fighting fate to keep you safe." On one hand it was very flattering to have a vampire for a knight in shining armor - albeit one who drove an Audi instead of swooping in on horseback. I didn't exactly fit the model for a damsel in distress, either. Once upon a time, maybe.

We were slowing down now, passing into the lights of St. Petersberg. It had taken maybe twenty minutes total. A sudden thought occurred to me.

"Will I see you tomorrow?"

"Oh, yes. I have lots to catch up on, including your audition." He shot me a wink. I snorted in response. "I'll save you a seat at lunch," he promised.

It was almost silly, after everything we'd been through tonight, how that one little promise sent butterflies rebounding in my stomach.

We'd made it to Toshiya's flat. The lights were on, my car was in its place, everything seemed utterly normal. It was liking waking from a dream. He parked the car on the curb, but I didn't move.

"Do you _promise_ to be there tomorrow?" It was hard to keep the skepticism out of my voice.

"I promise." He took his hands off the steering wheel, crossing a finger over his heart.

The gesture made me smile, and I nodded, satisfied. Regretfully, I pulled off his skating jacket, offering it to him.

"Oh, you can keep that. You don't have a jacket for tomorrow," he reminded me.

It was tempting, but I shook my head, handing it back.

"I don't want to have to explain to my father."

"Ah, all right." He grinned, showing off perfect, even white teeth.

I hesitated, my hand on the door handle, trying to prolong the moment.

"Yuuri?" he asked in a different tone - serious, but hesitant.

"Yes?" I turned back to him, curious what he could want.

"Will you promise me something?"

"Yes." The curiosity intensified.

"Please don't go into the woods alone."

"Why?" I stared. Surely there was something more than that?

He frowned, staring past me out of the window into the darkness.

"I'm not always the most dangerous thing out there, all right?"

I nodded, relieved. It was an easy promise to make, and I couldn't see a way to dodge it.

"All right, I promise."

"I'll see you tomorrow," he sighed, and I knew it was time to leave.

"Tomorrow," I repeated, opening the door.

"Yuuri?" When I turned back, he was leaning toward me, face just inches from mine. I froze in place, heart rate kicking up a notch, along with my anxiety.

"Y-yes?" I stammered, unable to form coherent sentences just then.

"Sleep well," he murmured. I blinked, thoroughly dazed. Finally, he leaned back and away from me.

I scrambled out of the car and away from temptation, using the frame for support. I could have sworn I heard him chuckle, but the sound was too low for me to be certain.

Victor waited until I made it to the front door of the building before I heard the engine quietly rev up. I turned to watch the silver blue car disappear around the corner. I realized it was freezing, so I hurried inside and up the stairs. I reached for my key automatically, unlocked the door to our apartment, and stepped inside.

"Yuuri?" Toshiya called from the living room.

"Yeah, Dad, it's me." I walked in to see him. He was watching the evening news.

"You're home rather early." He sounded surprised to see me, so that explained it.

"I am?" I probably should have checked the time on my phone before coming inside, but I had been eager to get out of the cold.

"It's not even nine o'clock yet," he told me. "Did you have fun with the girls?"

"Yeah, it was a lot of fun." I struggled to remember that far back. "They all found dresses."

"That's good. Are you all right?" he asked, regarding me carefully.

"I'm just tired. We did a lot of walking." It wasn't entirely untrue - I was the only one who did all the walking, though.

"Well, you should go lie down and rest." He sounded concerned, and I wondered what my face must look like. If I had to guess, probably a flustered mess.

"I just need to call Yuuko first."

"Didn't she drive you home?" he asked, surprised.

"Yes, but I left my jacket in her car. I want to make sure she brings it tomorrow." Finally, something I didn't have to lie about.

"Well, give her the chance to get home first."

"All right," I relented.

I wandered into the kitchen, flopping into a chair with a sigh of relief. It felt good to be off my feet again. I briefly wondered if I was going to go into shock after all. I shook my head, taking deep breaths. _Stay calm_ , I told myself.

My phone rang suddenly, startling me. I jumped up, yanking it from my pocket.

"Hello?" I asked breathlessly.

"Yuuri?"

"Hey, Yuuko. I was just going to call you."

"You made it home?" She sounded relieved, and maybe slightly surprised.

"Yeah. Hey, listen. I left my jacket in your car - could you bring it to me tomorrow?"

"Sure thing. So, tell me what happened," she coaxed. I could hear Takeshi and the triplets in the background. It sounded like it was bedtime for the little tykes.

"Er, tomorrow. In Math, okay?"

"Oh, is your dad there?" she asked, catching on quickly.

"Yeah." I didn't feel up to leaving the room just yet. Plus, I needed ample time to think by myself, without any interruptions.

"All right, talk to you tomorrow, Yuuri. Night!" I could hear the disappointment in her voice.

"Night, Yuuko."

I hung up, smiling and shaking my head. She really was a great friend. I walked up the stairs slowly, exhausted. I went through the motions of getting ready for bed, including washing the gel out of my hair in the shower. I let muscle memory take over, washing the day's stress from my skin. Eventually, the steaming spray relaxed my stiff muscles. Washing myself with mechanical ease, I stayed in the shower until the hot water began to run out.

I trudged out, throwing a towel around my waist and another over my hair. I dried off and dressed for bed swiftly, curling into a ball under my quilt, nestling my stuffed Vicchan close under my arm.

My mind still swirled, full of thoughts and images I didn't yet understand, and some I fought to repress. Nothing seemed very clear at first, but as I fell gradually into the folds of unconsciousness, a few things became quite evident.

About three things I was absolutely positive. First, Victor was a vampire. Second, there was a part of him - probably a very dominant part - that thirsted for my blood. And third, I was deeply enamored with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was a sneaky sneak and snuck in something that is relevant to one of the tags. If you catch it, pls keep it on the DL, I wanna keep it a surprise.
> 
> Notes:
> 
> Still need suggestions for the play about Eros and Agape. Whatever you got, hit me with it.
> 
> I wanted to include more of what Yuuri says to Victor from the episode where they're talking at the beach, but I couldn't remember all of it, so I just said fuck it. [shrug emoji] I will be trying to include more bits from the anime if I can help it, though!
> 
> This chapter wasn't that hard to write, but having to change up the dialogue to fit their characters was a bit of a challenge. I hope Yuuri's anxiety hasn't fallen short, though if it has, I blame writing from first person. I hate doing it, it's not my style, but with this AU, it was kinda unavoidable. Oh well.
> 
> Ya boi Yuri(o) should be back next chapter. Hopefully. I miss my angery cat son.
> 
> This will be the last update for another week or so. I got other stuff to work on, and all.


	11. You Lose Some, You Learn Some

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri nearly loses his head. Victor gives his favorite student something to think about other than his upcoming audition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay, ya'll. Another fic of mine took five days to update, and I added another 20k words to its total word count before I finally took a break. (I'm writing this from my coffin.)
> 
> I also had some Bad Stuff to deal with in my home life, as well as mental stuff that stemmed from it. I need more time to mentally recover, but I think the Bad Stuff has passed (for now).
> 
> I accidentally lied. Yurio does not show up this chapter. I am so sorry, I don't like reading ahead if I can help it, but I did earlier today just to distract myself. He will DEFINITELY be in next chapter. I promise.
> 
> This chapter is, again, 90% dialogue and it's good that I'm already dead, because this would have killed me if I wasn't.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this update regardless, and thank you so much for reading! <3

In the morning, it was very hard to argue with the part of me that was sure last night was a dream. Neither logic nor common sense were on my side. I clung to the parts I couldn't have imagined - like his laughter. My imagination wasn't capable of that sort of clarity.

It was foggy and dark outside my window, perfect weather for vampires. He had no reason not to be at the academy today. I dressed in a comfy turtleneck sweater, slacks, and boots, remembering I didn't have a jacket. Further proof that yesterday had been real after all.

When I went into the kitchen, Toshiya was gone again - I was running later than I realized. With no time for a proper breakfast, I gulped down a muffin in six bites, chased it down with the last few sips of milk in the carton, tossed the container, and was out the door in a flash, duffel bag in hand. Hopefully the rain would hold off until I could find Yuuko.

It was unusually foggy; the air was thick with smoky mist in all directions. The mist was ice cold where it clung to the exposed skin on my face. I couldn't wait to get the heat going in my car. The fog was so thick, it was a few feet down the sidewalk before I noticed the car parked right behind mine; a silvery blue car. My heart rate kicked up a notch in response.

I didn't see where he came from, but suddenly he was there, pulling the passenger door open for me.

"Good morning, Yuuri! Would you like to ride with me today?" Victor asked, crystalline eyes sparkling with mirth at having caught me by surprise. Again. There was a note of uncertainty in his voice. He was giving me a choice, as always, and I was free to refuse if I wanted to. I didn't feel like refusing today.

"Yes, thank you." It was easy to stay calm. As I stepped into the warm car, I noticed his red, white, and blue skating jacket slung over the headrest of the passenger seat. The door closed behind me, and sooner than should be possible, he was sitting next to me, starting the car.

"I brought the jacket for you. I didn't want you to get sick because you didn't have one." His concern was rather touching, but unnecessary. He wore no jacket himself, just a grey V-neck shirt with long sleeves. It clung to the muscled contours of his torso and I had to tear my gaze away with a sharp jerk of my head. _Inappropriate!_ my conscience screamed. 

"I'm not as delicate as you think," I said, but pulled the jacket onto my lap all the same, pushing my arms through the too-long sleeves, curious to see if it smelled the same as it had last night. It did.

"Hm, if you say so," he murmured, almost too low for me to hear. 

We drove through the fog-shrouded streets, always too fast, but I didn't complain about the speed limit this time. I felt awkward just sitting there, staring out of the window into the faded grey gloom flashing by. Last night, all the walls had come down between us, or so I thought. I didn't know if we were still going to be as honest with each other as before. The anxiety crept forward on silent feet, making me tongue-tied. I waited for him to speak.

"Are you all right, Yuuri?" he asked, glancing at me from his peripheral. "I thought you might still be full of questions."

"Do my questions bother you?" I mumbled, relieved he'd finally broken the silence. 

"Not at all! Your reactions are much different than I imagined them to be, though." He seemed genuine enough, but I couldn't be sure.

"Do I react badly?" I frowned. How was I supposed to react? Sure, I still had trouble with anxiety issues, but I'd mostly learned to wrangle it in and power through despite the obstacle.

"No, but you've been so unnaturally calm about everything, it makes me think you might snap if I'm not careful. It makes me wonder what you're really thinking." His thoughtful tone made me turn to face him. Victor's gaze had shifted back to the road, staring forward, though I didn't think he was too concerned with the morning traffic.

"I always tell you what I'm really thinking." Sure, I kept some things to myself, but it was still the truth.

"You edit, though." He was almost pouting now, and I had to fight a smile.

"Not very much."

"Enough to make me wonder what you leave out."

"You don't want to hear it," I mumbled. As soon as the words left my lips I regretted them. I could only hope he didn't see the pain flickering in my eyes.

He didn't respond, and I wondered if I had ruined the mood. His face was unreadable as we drove into the academy parking lot. A belated thought occurred to me.

"Where's the rest of your family?" I asked, curious. I didn't mind being alone with him, but I remembered his car was usually full.

"They took Anya's car." He shrugged, parking next to a glossy red convertible with the top up. "Ostentatious, isn't it?"

"Um, wow," I breathed. "If she has _that_ , why does she ride with you?" 

"Like I said, it's ostentatious. We _try_ to keep a low profile."

"You don't succeed." I chuckled and shook my head, anxiety momentarily forgotten as we got out of the car. I certainly wasn't going to be late to class now; his wild driving had gotten me to school in plenty of time. "So, why did Anya drive today if it's more conspicuous?"

"Hadn't you noticed? I'm breaking _all_ the rules now." He met me at the front of the car, staying close enough to touch as we walked onto campus, though I was glad of the few inches of space he kept between us. It kept my treacherous anxiety at bay, and afforded some peace of mind.

"Why do you have cars like that if you're looking for privacy?" I wondered aloud.

"Ah, well. It's a bit of an indulgence," he admitted sheepishly. "We all like to drive fast."

"That explains a lot," I muttered under my breath.

In the shelter of the main lobby, Yuuko was waiting, eyes wide. Over her arm, bless her, was my jacket.

"Hi, Yuuko," I greeted when we were a few feet away. "Thanks for remembering."

"Hi, Yuuri," she breathed, handing me my jacket. "It's no problem."

"Good morning, Yuuko," Victor greeted, polite as always. 

"Um, morning, Master Nikiforov." She shifted her wide eyes to me, trying to gather her jumbled thoughts. "I guess I'll see you in Math, Yuuri?" She gave me a meaningful look, and I suppressed a sigh. What was I going to tell her?

"Yeah, see you then."

She walked away, pausing once to look back over her shoulder at us before disappearing down the hall among the throng of students.

"What are you going to tell her?" Victor murmured.

"I thought you couldn't read my mind!" I hissed, startled.

"I can't," he blinked, head cocked to the side and studying me carefully. "However, I can read hers. She'll be waiting to ambush you in class."

I pulled off his jacket, handing it back with a sigh and replacing it with my own. He folded it over his arm.

"What are you going to tell her?"

"Could I get a little help with that?" I pleaded. "What does she want to know?"

"I don't know, Yuuri. That seems a little unfair." He shook his head, tone playful.

"I think not sharing what you know is what's unfair," I mumbled, looking away.

He deliberated for a moment as we walked. Eventually, we made it to my first class, pausing outside the door.

"She wants to know if there's something going on between us, and she wants to know how you feel about me," he finally revealed, a thoughtful frown marring his normally jovial face.

"Wow," I flushed, suddenly _very_ thankful he couldn't read my mind. "What should I say?" People were passing us on their way to class, probably staring, but for once, I was barely aware of them.

"Hmm, well.." He paused to carefully push my glasses back onto the bridge of my nose. My heart rate stuttered in response, but I stood still. "As to the first.. tell her I have decided to be your personal ballet coach, and that I have asked you to take extra lessons with me on the weekends, if you don't mind. It's easier than any other explanation."

"I don't mind," I said, swallowing thickly.

"As for her other question... well, I'll be listening to hear the answer to that one myself." His lips turned up in my favorite heart-shaped smile. I smiled back, nearly used to it by now. He turned and walked away, tossing a wave over his shoulder.

"I'll see you at lunch, Yuuri!" he called back. Three people walking in the door stopped to stare.

I hurried into class, flushed and embarrassed. He was such a cheater! Now I was even more worried about what I was going to say to Yuuko. I flopped in my usual seat, dropping the duffel bag at my feet a little more forcefully than necessary.

"Morning, Yuuri," Minami said from the seat in front of me. I looked up to see his russet eyes wide with concern. "How was Novgorod?"

"It was..." There was no honest way to sum it up without spilling the beans. "Great," I finished lamely."Everyone got really cute dresses."

"What color is Ketty's?" he asked, eyes brightening. "I want to get a tie to match." 

I smiled at the turn the conversation had taken, glad for the distraction.

"It's a really pretty rose color. It goes from a light red to a light pink at the hem."

"That does sound pretty," he murmured, an excited gleam in his eyes.

"It definitely is, but it might be hard to match."

Ms. Okukawa called the class to order then, asking us to turn in our homework first thing. French and then Russian Language and Literature passed in a blur, while I worried about how to explain things to Yuuko and agonized over whether Victor would really be listening to what I said through the medium of her thoughts. His talent was pretty inconvenient - when it wasn't saving my life. 

Everyone turned in their Cold War essays, and we were told to expect the results in the coming days. I was pretty optimistic, since I put in a lot of effort into the research aspect of the paper.

The fog had nearly dissolved by the end of the second hour, but the day was still dark with low, oppressing cloud cover. Still perfect.

Victor was right, of course. When I walked into Math, Yuuko was sitting in the back row next to Sala, nearly wriggling in her seat with anticipation. I reluctantly went to sit on her other side, trying to convince myself it would be better to get it over with as soon as possible.

"Tell us everything, Yuuri!" she pleaded before I was even in my seat. Sala was staring at me from across Yuuko's chair, just as eager for the gossip.

"What do you want to know?" I asked, wary.

"What happened last night?"

"He bought me dinner, and then he drove me home."

Both girls oohed quietly. I personally didn't see the big deal. Just because I _might_ have a crush on my ballet teacher didn't mean he felt the same about me.

"How did you get home so fast?" Sala asked.

"His driving is.. unconventional. Toshiya would skin him alive if he found out how fast he was going." I hoped he heard that. 

"Was it a.. date? Did you ask him to meet you there?" Yuuko asked delicately. 

"N-no! I was _very_ surprised to see him there." I shook my head frantically, hands waving in front of my face.

She bit her lip, exchanging glances with Sala. 

"But he picked you up for school today?" she probed.

"Yes, but that was a surprise, too. He noticed I didn't have a jacket last night," I explained.

"Are you going out again?" Sala asked, unaware that Michele had just sat down on her other side.

"Um, he offered to drive me to Moscow on Saturday because he thinks my car isn't up to it. Does that count?"

"Maybe," Yuuko murmured, concern heavy in her eyes. "Student/teacher relationships are _really_ frowned upon, though."

"I-it's not like that!" I stammered, endeavoring to keep my voice down. "He offered to give me extra lessons after my normal classes, that's all!" I leaned over the side of my desk, taking my flushed cheeks with me, to dig out my Math textbook from my duffel.

"Well, he _does_ offer tutoring on the weekends," Sala began, and with immense relief, I turned back to the girls with a nod. Michele looked confused, judging by his raised brow. No one thought to include him in our conversation, but I was glad. I didn't need the Michele Crispino Inquisition on top of everything else.

"Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays, right?" Yuuko snapped her fingers and nodded, answering her own question.

"Right," I encouraged, glad the topic had changed from potentially dating my ballet teacher. That was a can of worms I didn't want to open under any circumstances.

"Wow," Sala whispered, propping her chin in one hand on her desk. "Private lessons with Victor Nikiforov! I'm so jealous."

I chuckled, if a bit uneasily, pushing my glasses back up the bridge of my nose with a forefinger. Victor was something of a legend on campus, I'd learned. He used to dance at the Bolshoi Ballet before Vaganova scooped him up. _Premier danseur_ as well, if I remembered correctly.

"What did you guys talk about?" Yuuko asked in a whisper, eager for information now that my single status had been reconfirmed. Class had started, but Mister Karpisek wasn't paying close attention, and we weren't the only ones still talking.

"Lots of stuff," I whispered back, shrugging. "We talked about my audition piece a little." Very, very little. I think he'd mentioned it in passing. Which reminded me, I still hadn't shown the pictures I took of the dress to Victor. I decided to just wait and see if I actually got the part before broaching the subject. I didn't want to seem too cocky.

"Please, Yuuri," Sala begged. "Give us some details."

"Well.. okay. I think our waitress was flirting with him, but he didn't pay her a bit of attention. I kind of felt bad for her." Maybe that would teach him not to dazzle people.

"Was she pretty?" Michele asked, startling all three of us. He raised a brow, waiting for an answer.

"Um, yes? Younger, too."

"Wow, he _must_ like you," Yuuko murmured without a trace of disapproval.

"I dunno, he's kind of.. enigmatic? It's hard to tell with him sometimes." I muttered, trying to focus on the textbook. 

"I don't know how you're brave enough to be alone with him," she breathed.

"Why?" I understood the sentiment, but I was still curious.

"He's so... intimidating. I wouldn't know what to say to him." She made a face, probably remembering their encounters last night and this morning.

"I do have speech trouble when I'm around him," I admitted. Also anxiety issues, but I was working on those.

"Well, he _is_ unbelievably gorgeous." Sala shrugged as if this excused any flaws. Honestly, I was on her side.

"Well, yes, but there's a lot more to him than that." I was feeling strangely protective of my new private ballet coach. Just because he was handsome didn't mean that was _all_ there was to him.

"Like what?" Yuuko asked, eyes alight with curiosity. 

I wished I had let it go. Almost as much as I was hoping he'd been kidding abut listening in.

"I can't really explain it, but he's even more unbelievable _behind_ the face." The vampire who tried so hard to be good - who went around saving people's lives so he wouldn't feel like a monster.. I stared toward the front of the room.

"I bet," Sala muttered. Michele snorted.

I ignored them, trying to look like I was paying attention to Mister Karpisek.

"So, do you like him?" Yuuko asked, not about to give up that easily.

"Well, yes, he's a good teacher." Lots of people thought so. It was also just plain fact.

"I mean, do you _really_ like him? Not just because he's a good teacher," she pressed, leaning forward a little to pierce me with those inquisitive brown eyes of hers.

"I.." I hesitated, clearing my throat, mindful of our vampiric eavesdropper. Moment of truth, Yuuri, nothing to lose. "Yes." I flushed, staring straight ahead. I hoped that little detail wouldn't show up in her thoughts. My short answers didn't seem to satisfy her anymore, unfortunately.

"How _much_ do you like him?" she wasn't even bothering to feign paying attention to the lecture at this point, and neither was Yuuko. Both of them stared avidly in my direction. I had to marshal my thoughts and take a deep breath before answering.

"Um, a lot? I don't know," I whispered. "I've never liked anyone before. I know it's weird, but.. I can't help it." I sighed, one blush blending into the next.

Thankfully, Mister Karpisek called on Yuuko for an answer.

Neither of them got the chance to bring up the subject again during class, and as soon as the bell rang, I took evasive action.

"In French, Minami told me he was going to get a tie to match Ketty's dress."

"What, seriously?" Michele muttered, turning towards his sister. "Think I could get one to match yours?"

"I mean, if you want?" Sala shrugged. She turned toward Yuuko, ignoring her brother's pout. "Takeshi should definitely get a yellow tie to match your dress. It would look so cute."

All of them were completely sidetracked now, and I breathed a sigh of relief. My uplifted expression must have tipped Yuuko off as I shoved my textbook in my duffel.

"You're not sitting with us again, are you?" she guessed.

"I don't _think_ so." I wasn't entirely sure he wouldn't just disappear on me again.

As though to prove me wrong, outside the door to Math, leaning against the wall and looking more like a dancing god than anyone had the right to, was Victor. Yuuko took one look, stifled a giggle in her hand, and departed. 

"See you later, Yuuri~!" Her voice was thick with implications. I might have to set my phone to silent for awhile. The Crispino twins followed after her, which left me alone for a change.

"Hello, Yuuri." He was his usual chipper self, it seemed. Whatever he had overheard must not have put a dent in his mood. 

"Um, hi."

I couldn't think of anything else to say, and he didn't speak - probably biding his time until we were alone - so it was a quiet walk to the cafeteria. Walking with Victor through the crowded lunchtime rush was a lot like my first day here; everyone stared.

He led the way into the line, checking his phone, though his eyes returned to my face every few seconds, his expression speculative. Our eyes locked, and a semblance of a smile curled at his lips. I smiled back, fidgeting nervously with the zipper on my jacket.

Finished checking his phone, he stepped up to the counter, placing his order. The woman behind the counter smiled, filling a tray with food and chatting in rapid fire Russian, which Victor responded to with equal enthusiasm.

"You're not getting all that for _me_?" I asked, incredulous. 

He shook his head, stepping forward to buy the food.

"Oh, no. Half of it is for me."

I blinked, raising an eyebrow.

He led the way to the same table we'd shared before. From the other end of the long table, a group of senior division dancers gazed at us in amazement as we sat across from each other. Victor seemed oblivious.

"Take whatever you like, Yuuri," he said, gently pushing the tray my way.

"I'm curious," I said, picking up an apple, turning it around in my hands. "I only ever saw you eat half my muffin, but can you eat other stuff, too?"

"You're always curious." He laughed, shaking his silver head. Holding my gaze, he grabbed a fork, spearing a bit of chicken salad on the end, and popped it in his mouth. He chewed quickly, and then swallowed. I watched, eyes wide.

"It tastes a bit like dirt, but please don't tell the cook I said that. He'd skin me alive." I wrinkled my nose at the imagery, but he just laughed, a pleasant, musical sound that held my anxiety at bay. He paused, something over my shoulder catching his attention. "Ketty's analyzing everything I do - she'll break it down for you later before next period." He pushed the rest of the salad toward me.

I put down the apple and took the offered fork, taking a bite of salad. I kept my eyes down on my food, knowing the inevitable interrogation was coming. I was not disappointed.

"Was the waitress really that pretty?" he asked casually.

"You didn't notice?" I frowned. Sure he wasn't that oblivious?

"I'm afraid I wasn't paying attention. I had a lot on my mind then."

"Poor girl." I smiled; I could afford to be generous now.

"Something you said to Yuuko.. well, I'm not sure I understood it." He refused to be distracted. His voice was low, and he glanced up from under his lashes with troubled eyes.

"What did you not understand?" I had a feeling I knew which part he meant, but I wanted to hear him say it.

"Well, the fact that you like me as more than you teacher is flattering." He threw a heart-shaped smile my way, so of course I was powerless to disagree.

"But?" I prompted, sensing there was more to that statement.

"But," he sighed. "that's just it. I _am_ your teacher."

Something he'd said earlier this morning came back to me.

"I thought you were breaking all the rules now?"

We were inclined toward each other across the table now. His large pale hands were folded under his chin; I leaned forward, left hand cupped around my neck, the other still holding the fork. It wasn't hard to forget we were sitting in a crowded lunch room, with lots of curious eyes turned our way. His crystalline eyes never left mine, and I had to look away before I got lost in them.

"You're doing it again," I muttered.

"Doing what?" He blinked, eyes wide with surprise.

"Dazzling me," I admitted, shoveling a forkful of chicken salad in my mouth before daring to look his way again.

"Oh! My apologies, Yuuri." He looked slightly ashamed of himself, but I decided to let it go.

"It's not your fault," I sent an encouraging smile his way. "You can't help it."

We were silent for a moment, and I took the opportunity to take another bite of my salad.

"Did you mean what you said earlier?" he asked, drawing my attention back. "About not caring if I.. am what I am?"

I looked back down, focusing on the red apple on the tray in front of me. It reminded me of a pool of crimson blood, and Victor's chosen diet. Why was he asking a question he already knew the answer to?

"Of course," I murmured, taking a sip from the as yet untouched water bottle on the tray just for something to do.

"Then can you see.. us working out?" At my confused expression, he continued. "As more than friends?"

Oh. Me, _more_ than friends? With _Victor Nikiforov_? This was _so_ not happening.

"Um," I mumbled, stalling. "I.. maybe? We don't really.. _know_ each other that well." I knew _what_ he was, sure, but that was no basis for starting a relationship with someone.

His smile fell, and neither of us said anything for awhile. The silence dragged on, and the noise in my head increased; a ceaseless buzzing that had nothing to do with the sea of conversation that surrounded us. Finally, he spoke, his lilting voice velvet soft.

"I understand, Yuuri."

I glanced up to see that his eyes were gentle, like the sea on a calm afternoon, sunlight refracting off the waves in flecks of green and brightest blue.

"Thank you," I whispered, relieved. I picked at my food without really eating it. "But you know, maybe once we _do_ get to know each other a little better.." I trailed off at the hopeful glimmer in his eyes.

"I would be _delighted_ to get to know you better," he said, bringing his hands away from his chin to set them on the table.

"The feeling is mutual," I murmured, a shy smile working its way onto my face before it slowly fell away as something dawned on me, anxiety clawing its way to the surface for a brief moment.

"What's wrong, Yuuri?" Victor asked, radiating concern.

"I'm just.. surprised you'd be interested in me that way is all," I admitted, shrugging.

He leaned forward until his abdomen pressed against the faux wood grain of the table, cerulean eyes piercing in their intensity.

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, look at me," I said, unnecessarily as he was already staring. "I'm pretty ordinary in comparison to you." I waved a hand toward him and all his marble-skinned glory. His brow creased in a frown for a moment, then smoothed as his eyes took on a knowing look.

"You don't see yourself very clearly, you know. You didn't hear what every human woman in this academy - and a few of the men - were thinking on your first day."

I blinked, astonished, the tide of my anxiety sweeping away.

"I don't believe it..," I mumbled to myself.

"Please trust me, Yuuri. You are _anything_ but ordinary."

Embarrassment was much stronger than the surge of pleasure I felt at his words. 

"I wish I could read minds so I knew what you were thinking."

He chuckled, brushing the silver fringe from a clear blue eye. 

"I always tell you what I'm thinking," he said, head tilted to regard me with an amused tilt of his lips. 

"You edit," I accused, tone inching toward playful. His easy laughter flowed into the space between us, and as usual, I was struck by the musical clarity his voice produced. I wondered if the rest of his family sounded like that. Once the laughter subsided, his tone took on a more serious nature.

"I do have another question for you." At my nod, he continued. "Do you really need to go to Moscow this Saturday, or was that just an excuse to get out of saying no to all your admirers?"

I made a face at the memory. Whether or not he had wanted to, it was still his fault Sala got the opportunity to ask me to the dance in the first place.

"I'm still a bit miffed about the Sala thing," I reminded him. "Even though it was Yuri's idea, it was still your fault she got the chance to ask me."

"She was thinking about asking you the next day if she didn't catch you then." He was almost pouting now, huffing in annoyance. "I _am_ sorry, though. I won't let Yura talk me into something like that again." I accepted his apology with a gracious nod, and his expression brightened some. "If I had asked you, would you have turned me down?" he asked, eyes sparkling.

"Probably not," I mumbled. "Although I'd be worried about you being _allowed_ to dance with students."

"Oh, don't worry about that." He waved a hand dismissively. "I danced with half my class last year. No one cared." I was dubious, but if it was true, then I really would have nothing to worry about. "But you never told me - do you still plan on going to Moscow, or do you mind if we do something different?"

As long as we did _something_ , I didn't care where we went.

"I'm open to alternatives," I allowed. "But I do need new blades for my skates."

His eyes lit up like a burst of fireworks over a darkened sea.

"You skate?" His voice was full of hushed wonder, like a kid opening presents on Christmas morning.

"Yeah, but it's mostly just a hobby now." I wasn't ready to bring up my failed competitive career just yet.

"Don't worry, I'll see what I can do about getting you some new blades. Will you let me watch you skate one day?"

"Um, okay?" As long as 'one day' was far off in coming. I needed to get used to this friendship with a vampire thing first. "Would you mind if I drove on Saturday?"

"Why?" He frowned, a child sulking when his toy is taken from him.

"Well, when I told Toshiya I was going to Moscow, he specifically asked if I was going alone, and at the time I _was_. If he asks again, I don't want to lie, though there is always the chance he won't ask again. Leaving my car at home would just bring up the subject, and I don't want to tempt fate. Also, your driving makes my anxiety have a field day." 

He sighed, twisting and untwisting his fingers.

"Of all the things about me that scare you, you focus on my driving." He shook his head, smiling lightly. "Don't you want to tell your father you'll be spending the day with me?"

"With Toshiya, the less you say, the better." I would eventually tell him, I just had to find the right approach. "So, where are we going?" I asked, more to take the subject away from me than anything else.

"The weather will be nice, so I'll be staying out of the public eye. You can stay with me if you'd like to." Again, he was leaving the choice up to me.

"Will you show me what you meant about the sun?" I asked, excited about unraveling the next Nikiforov Mystery.

"Yes." He smiled, then paused. "But if you don't want to be.. alone with me, I'd still rather accompany you to Moscow. There's no telling what could happen to you in a city that size."

I snorted around another mouthful of salad, swallowing before bothering to respond.

"Detroit is at least the same size as St. Petersburg in population alone."

His eyes did that unfair shimmering with concern thing again.

"Please Yuuri? I'd feel better knowing you were safe where I could be by your side in seconds should something happen." Perhaps he was referring to what almost happened to me in Novgorod. I remembered it, too, and I was in no hurry to repeat the experience. I couldn't argue, with the eyes, or his logic. It was a moot point anyway.

"I don't mind being alone with you."

"I know," his smile widened. "The feeling is mutual."

There went my traitorous blush, seeping into my cheeks again. Gods, I had it _bad_.

"Er, let's talk about something else," I suggested.

"What would you like to talk about?" He folded his hands in front of him, waiting patiently for my response.

Nothing immediately came to mind. I glanced around, making sure we were still well out of earshot. As I cast my eyes around the room, I caught the attention of his sister, Mila. She stared, her eyes a lighter shade of blue, but no less piercing. The others were looking at Victor. I looked away swiftly, asking the first thing that came to mind.

"Why did you go all the way to the Ural Mountains last weekend.. to hunt? Toshiya said it wasn't a good place to hike because of bears and wolves."

He just stared at me as if I was missing something very obvious. The penny finally dropped.

"Bears? _Wolves_?" I gasped, and he shrugged. "You know, bears are not in season." I added sternly, to hide my shock.

"If you read carefully, the laws only cover hunting with weapons."

He watched my face carefully as that information slowly sank in.

"Bears?" I repeated weakly.

"Black bears are Georgi's favorite." His tone was casual, but his eyes surveyed my reactions with calculated ease. I pulled myself together, determined to put on a brave face.

"Wow," I said, taking another bit of chicken salad, followed by a long swig of water as an excuse to look down. "So," I said, trying to lighten the mood. "What's your favorite?"

"Silver wolf." He raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching up as though trying to fight a smile.

"Ah," I said in a politely disinterested tone, looking for my water again.

"When we have to make do with hunting animals," his tone mirrored mine as he spoke, "we have to be careful about how we impact the environment. Otherwise, the humans will notice. It is the same when we.. feed off of human blood." He cleared his throat, playful tone coming back in full force. "The mating season is Georgi's favorite - the bears are just finding mates, so they're easier to catch off guard. It's also more 'romantic' to kill them before they find another bear to settle down with." He rolled his eyes, a fond smile tipping the corners of his lips upwards.

"Of course, there's nothing more fun than an amorous black bear," I agreed, trying to see the humor. He snickered softly behind a hand.

"Tell me what you're really thinking, please."

"I'm trying to picture it, but I can't. Do you.. use your bare hands, or..?" I trailed off, staring at his perfectly white teeth as he flashed them in a decidedly wicked grin. "Ah, I see." I murmured, catching on.

"If you can picture a lovesick leopard, then you can picture Georgi hunting."

I couldn't stop the shiver that flashed down my spine at the mental image. I peeked across the cafeteria at Georgi, grateful that he wasn't looking my way. He seemed harmless enough; he was built almost like Victor, except his shoulders were a bit broader, the muscle a bit thicker around the chest and legs. You'd think he would appear more menacing after Victor's description of his brother, but it just made sense somehow.

Victor followed my gaze and chuckled. I stared at him, unnerved.

"Are you like a bear, too?" I asked in a low voice.

"More like the wolf, or so they tell me," he said lightly. "Perhaps our preferences match our personalities."

"Perhaps," I repeated, trying to smile. My mind filled with strangely hazy images I couldn't fit together, and I blurted out the first question that popped into my head, heedless of the consequences. "Is that something I'll get to see one day?"

Silence reigned for perhaps the span of a heartbeat or two before he broke out into a wide grin.

"Why, absolutely~! I didn't know you felt that way, dear Yuuri!" 

I was mortified, gnawing on my bottom lip as I hung my head. This would be one of those memories my brain dredged up later while I was trying to sleep, I was sure of it.

"Please kill me now," I whispered, nearly forgetting there was a vampire sitting less than two feet away who would do just that if he happened to be thirsty enough and unable to resist.

"Now, now, Yuuri," he admonished, shaking a forefinger at me like I was a naughty child in need of scolding. "You have to promise me there will be none of that from now on, and I'll happily show you one day."

I groaned, shoving the last of my salad in my mouth and chugging the last of my water. Now that I was finished eating, I pushed my tray aside, eyeing the apple sitting innocently in the corner. I pocketed the fruit for later. It would make for a decent snack on the way back from Physics.

"I'll hold you to it," I murmured, my voice finally returning.

"Of course!" he enthused. "But another time, we're going to be late." He got to his feet in one lithe movement.

I glanced around, startled to see he was right. The cafeteria was nearly vacant now. When I was with Victor, time and space seemed to blur together, and I completely lost track of both during our conversations. I jumped up, grabbing my duffel from underneath my chair.

"Another time," I agreed. I wouldn't forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm dead tired, sore, and depressed. Good night, folks.
> 
> I'll edit for any crappy sentence structure/typos tomorrow, I just wanted to get this posted tonight.
> 
> Notes:
> 
> Have you ever heard a voice so pleasing, so soothing to listen to, it made you want to listen to it for the rest of your life? Whether it be speaking or singing, doesn't matter. Victor's voice is soothing to Yuuri, and he finds it helps calm him down to listen to his laughter. (I'm drawing on my own experiences with anxiety here.)
> 
> The whole student/teacher thing is pretty much the only thing keeping these nerds from outright dating. Don't worry, no one cares they're both men. Just think, regardless of the 4 year age gap between them, it might still be seen as #scandalous for them to date right away.
> 
> I compared Victor to a wolf, it just seemed fitting. I do not actually know if there is such a thing as a silver wolf. My internet is slow, and I am so Tired.


	12. The Inquisition™

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Questions are asked, answered, and left until morning light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... writer's block is a Thing... I had to kind of force myself to write this for awhile, and once I got about halfway done, it got a bit easier. Sorry for the delay, I'll try to get the next one out in less time, assuming I can stop trying to cough up my lungs every five minutes lmao..

We walked to his class in companionable silence. We reached the door as soon as the warning bell sounded, the klaxon echoing down the corridors and hurrying students on their way to class. I paused, my hand brushing the door knob, glancing over at Victor. He stood leaning against the wall, digging his phone out of his pocket. He must have noticed I had yet to leave, because he looked up, lips curling into a small heart shape.

"Hurry up, Yuuri, or you'll be late~" he sang, nodding towards the door.

"Aren't you coming?" Victor's relaxed stance helped eased my own nerves, even if just a little.

"I'll be along, don't worry. Go warm up."

I wasn't about to look a gift vampire in the mouth, so I nodded, slipping into the room and hurrying towards the changing rooms. Changing in front of others had always been a nerve wracking experience for me, especially now. Thankfully, I could hide at the back of the lockers, and not be subject to stares. My leotard was no longer so tight around the middle, which helped some. Altering the garment itself to give a semblance of what I lacked was no easy task, but I'd always managed without anyone being the wiser. 

Hopefully, things would stay that way.

I slipped into the main studio just as the last echoes of the klaxon faded. Flopping on the floor next to Ketty in the far back corner, I began my usual stretch routine. True to his prediction, Ketty broke down all of his mannerisms she'd observed at lunch. I managed to dodge a few uncomfortable questions, but I had a feeling the interrogation would continue later. Victor entered the room a few minutes later, apologizing for his tardiness. 

"All right, everyone!" he called, clapping his hands for attention. We all hastened to the _barre_ , awaiting our instructions in silence. "So, I've reviewed all of the auditions so far, and I'm very pleased with everyone's progress." He beamed at the lot of us, his crystalline eyes lingering on mine for perhaps a second longer than necessary before drifting down the end of the line. "Only a few now remain, which we'll take care of today."

Right, that meant it was finally my turn. The moment of truth had arrived. Either I was going to get the part, or fall flat on my face in front of everyone here - including Victor. Only four students remained that had not been called to perform. Ketty and I were the last two; I was glad to have a familiar face to stand next to. She'd been given the part of Agape, which seemed oddly fitting.

Victor was playing the part of Nike, Roman goddess of Victory. I suppressed a chuckle at the irony. Four of the eight types of love remained - the rest had been killed off in earlier scenes. Eros, Agape, Pragma, and Philautia were to win the favor of Nike in their fight to keep the balance of love in tact. Diana - Roman goddess of love and beauty - was being played by Madame Ambrose. When someone asked why the teachers were participating, Victor simply replied "All the dance instructors will have a part to play. It fosters communication and cooperation among departments."

The part of Pragma was played by a boy a few years younger than me. Through the medium of dance, he pleaded with Victor, who stood immobile, his face a mask of rigid marble. It was a beautiful performance, and very intense. I tried to imagine Victor in long, flowing robes with a gleaming breastplate and winged helm. The image got me through Philautia's audition - played by a girl in her late teens, maybe early twenties. Her dance was far more complicated, and seemed all the more fierce for it.

This part of the play was crucial, Victor told us, because it represented the arduous task of appealing to a god for aid. The balance of love was at stake, and if they could not sway Nike, then love was forever doomed to fail. Hatred would win, and no one, human or otherwise, would ever be able to attain happiness. Thus, the importance of gathering the types of love together as a cohesive whole to achieve victory.

Finally, as Ketty's audition came to a close, bent backwards with her hands clasped high above her and panting but happy, applause rang through the studio. It was my turn next.

"Eros," Victor announced, slipping back into the character of Nike after I took my position, "your love, above all others, intrigues me. Think you can sway my decision to your favor?"

Clearing my throat, I began to recite my lines in a low, sultry purr, trying to mimic the sound of Victor's alluring voice. "Luminous Nike, my love is strong, and to uphold the balance, I would do _anything_." Keeping eye contact was crucial to my part. Before Victor had called the class to order, I'd taken deep breaths, stretching one leg behind my ear, trying to calm the tide of my rising anxiety. Dancing was like skating, I reasoned with myself. If I could get into the zone, then nothing could hold me back. 

"Anything?" Victor repeated, cerulean eyes sparkling despite his cold demeanor.

"I would even seduce a god," I murmured. My voice faded, and the music began. 

I lost myself to the beat, cocking my hip and tilting my head in Victor's direction, sending a grin his way as I tilted my head. His eyebrow rose a fraction, and he whistled, the noise cutting through the melody for a moment. That wasn't part of the choreography, but I just assumed Victor had improvised, having license to do so. 

I continued with my routine, focusing only on the beat of the music and the motions of my body. I felt everyone's eyes on me, but I'd already lost myself to the dance, and their gazes had no effect on my confidence. The final step sequence took all of my concentration; the spin near the end was vital. It kept Nike's attention focused solely on Eros, which was the whole point. 

I ended the routine not three feet from Nike, hugging my arms close as though bringing the god in for a loving embrace. Slightly out of breath, I panted as a smattering of applause reached my ears, as though through a long tunnel. 

Victor stepped forward, and I struggled to keep in character, dropping my position to kneel at his feet as the choreography required.

"It seems as though I was mistaken," he murmured, kneeling down to my level and placing a pale hand on my shoulder. Coaxing me to stand, he stared deep into my eyes, even as Pragma, Agape, and Philautia surrounded us. "Perhaps love is worth saving after all." At this point, Nike was to show his own display of love, pressing a kiss to Eros' forehead. My heart picked up double time at the realization, but Victor simply smiled and took a step back, declaring the scene to be over.

I was surrounded by more applause, including Victor's. I smiled, drunk on the emotions of the moment. 

"That was wonderful, everyone! Yuuri, that performance _oozed_ sexual confidence. I'm very proud of the progress you've made." Flushed to the tips of my ears, I nodded and said nothing, still too out of breath and dazed to think I'd finally done it. At that point, the bell rang, startling nearly everyone. Victor clapped his hands as soon as the last notes faded. "Well, I guess that's it for today! I'll post the results of the auditions sometime next week. If you have any concerns at all, feel free to come by anytime. Have a good day!"

Everyone dispersed, either for a post stretch against the _barre_ , or making their way towards the changing rooms. Victor headed towards the other end of class, where his camcorder sat. He'd gotten permission from us before hand, wanting to record all the auditions so he could review them later and decide who should get what part.

I opted for a post stretch at the barre. The boy who played Pragma and I engaged in small talk while I waited for the changing room to empty out some. With two minutes until the warning bell, it finally did. I politely excused myself, hurrying into the changing room. He followed a moment later, but thankfully, did not engage in any further conversation. 

I exited the changing room just as the warning bell rang. The last few students were congregating at the door, exchanging a final few words with Victor before they left, one by one, until we were left alone in the vast studio, the mirrors casting our reflections, weak afternoon light casting angular bars across the polished wood floors.

"Yuuri," Victor smiled as I approached, eyes shining with pride. "You were so graceful, and your movements were _beautiful_!" He continued to gush for another minute, my cheeks growing redder all the while.

"Master Nikiforov," I mumbled, shuffling from foot to foot. "Thank you, but I don't want to be late."

At once, he clammed up, smile faltering before he hitched it back into place.

"I'm sorry, Yuuri. I'll meet you after Physics, all right?"

Time was ticking away until the final bell, so I nodded, hoping that would be enough. His lips formed that perfect heart shape, and he held open the door for me. I murmured a quick thank you and dashed out of the room and down the halls, past students milling about and miraculously not bumping into anyone.

I made it in the door with seconds to spare. Panting, I flopped into my chair, dropping my duffel at my feet. I heard a soft snort from my left. I froze, turning slowly to meet the crystalline jade green eyes of Yuri Plisetsky. The last echoing strains of the klaxon faded, and with it, the chatter of our peers. 

"Um, hey," I ventured, hoping against hope that the teen wasn't in the mood to rip my head off today. I wondered if he knew that I knew he and his whole family were vampires.

"Hay is for horses, piggy," he muttered, lips twitching as though fighting off a smile at the joke.

I noticed that he no longer angeled the chair to sit as far away from me as possible, though he still kept a respectable distance from me, which I appreciated. I shook my head, a soft chuckle escaping.

"So, you _do_ have a sense of humor," I teased.

He raised an eyebrow, almost challenging. "Of course I do. Just because _you_ don't get to hear it doesn't mean it isn't there."

Mister Oda backed into the room then - saving me from having to respond to the rude youth - pulling a tall metal frame on wheels that held a heavy, almost pristine television and DVD player. A movie day - the lift in the class atmosphere was almost tangible. He briefly explained that we would be watching clips from old ballet recitals and plays to see if anyone was interested in a teaching career after leaving Vaganova. The more we observed other techniques, he reasoned, the more open we would be to creating our own routines.

Mister Oda walked over to the the wall beside the door, flicking off the lights. As the room went black, I was suddenly hyper aware that Yuri was sitting less than a foot from me. A strange feeling slithered down my spine - cold and warm at the same time - and I stole a quick glance to my right as the opening credits rolled, lighting the room by a token amount. 

Yuri stared defiantly back, arms folded tightly across his chest. Not for the first time, I wondered if he was the cause of such feelings. That idea didn't seem so far-fetched now. I quickly looked away, focusing on the moving shapes on screen. Whether Yuri was causing the feeling or not, it persisted. It was not unpleasant - I almost felt warm and at peace - but it was distracting. I couldn't exactly tell him to cut it out, so I endured.

The hour seemed very long. I could barely concentrate on the graceful scenes in front of me. I found that if I relaxed too much, I would slip into a light doze, and for minutes at a time, I was aware of nothing but darkness and Yuri's presence beside me. Occasionally, I would permit myself a quick glance in his direction, but his stiff posture never relaxed. The feeling also refused to fade, and I was stuck with splitting my focus between the television and Yuri the whole time.

I breathed a sigh of relief when Mister Oda flicked the lights back on at the end of class, and I stretched my arms above my head, flexing stiff joints. Yuri snorted softly beside me.

"Well, _that_ was interesting," he muttered, tone dripping sarcasm.

"Er, right," was all I was able to respond.

The bell rang, the sharp notes of the klaxon echoing down the corridor. 

"Later, loser," Yuri called, tossing a wave over his shoulder as he brushed passed on his way to the door.

I had to pick my jaw up off the floor before picking up my duffel bag. Yuri had _never_ deigned to say goodbye to me before. The hot-cold feeling disappeared along with him, and I was left feeling strangely deprived, though of what, I had no idea. 

Minami dutifully walked by my side as we made our way to the parking lot. His nose was scrunched up in thought, a single canine poking out to nibble at his lower lip.

"What's wrong?" I asked, opening the front door to the academy and stepping out into the chilly afternoon.

"Yuri seemed more pleasant today, that's all," he confessed with a shrug. "Normally, he looks at you as if he wants to eat you."

I choked back the laughter that threatened to explode, but a light giggle managed to escape, despite my best efforts. I waved off Minami's concern and bid him goodbye. I had just spotted Victor walking towards us, and I hurried to meet him halfway. As I walked to his side, I felt a peculiar sense of release.

"Hi," I breathed, adjusting my glasses and smiling shyly.

"Hello, Yuuri." His answering smile was brilliant, eyes sparkling merrily as he turned and lead the way to his car. "How was Physics?"

"Fine," I lied, coughing once to clear my throat.

"Are you sure?" He seemed unconvinced. "Did Yura say anything to you?"

"He said goodbye to me, which he's never done before." I shrugged like it was no big deal.

"But, that's good! Maybe he's finally warming up to you." His smile returned as we made our way to the parking lot.

"I doubt it," I muttered.

We had to stop a few steps away from his car. A crowd of people, mostly boys, were standing around it. At a closer look, I realized they weren't surrounding the Audi, they were actually circled around Anya's red convertible, their admiring gazes focused solely on the car. None of them even looked up as Victor slid between them to open his door. I climbed quickly in the passenger side, also unnoticed.

"Ostentatious," he muttered, starting up the car.

"What kind of car is it?" I asked, buckling my seatbelt.

"An M3."

"I have no idea what that is," I admitted sheepishly.

"It's a BMW." He snorted softly, trying to back out without running over the car enthusiasts.

I nodded absently; I'd heard of that brand, at least.

"Can I ask a favor?" Victor tilted his head to show he was listening as he pulled out of campus and onto the road. "Can I drive on Saturday?"

"Are you really set on this?" he asked, a downward tilt of his lips signalling a pout.

I nodded. I was going to put my foot down this time. He was silent a moment before his eyes sparkled playfully. "Then I'll be on your doorstep bright and early Saturday morning."

"Um, it won't help with Toshiya if an unexplained Audi is parked on the curb." 

A smug smile tugged at the curves of his heart shaped lips. "Oh, I won't be bringing the car."

"Then how will you get here?" Surely he wasn't planning to _walk_ all the way to our flat?

"Don't worry, Yuuri." He waved a hand dismissively. "I'll be there, no car."

I decided to let it go. I had a more urgent question, anyway.

"Is it later yet?" I asked tentatively.

"Hm, I suppose it is." He frowned, looking thoughtful.

I waited patiently as he stopped the car. I looked up, surprised. We were already at our flat, parked behind the car at the curb. It was easier to ride with him if I only looked after it was over. Glancing back Victor's way, I found him staring back, gauging my mood.

"I can't let you see me hunt, I'm afraid." His tone was solemn, and I had difficulty reading the rapid swirl of emotion in his eyes.

"Is it really that dangerous?" I asked quietly, not really wanting to know the answer.

"Incredibly," he whispered, shaking his head. "The very thought of you being there while we hunted..." He shook his head again as if dispelling the thought, jaw clenched.

"That bad, huh?"

He took a deep breath and stared through the windshield at the thick, rolling clouds that seemed to press down, so close you could almost reach out and touch them.

"When we hunt," he spoke slowly, voice a mere whisper, "we completely give ourselves over to our senses. Especially our sense of smell. If you were anywhere near me when I lost control that way.." He trailed off, shaking his head, still gazing morosely at the heavy clouds.

I kept my expression firmly under control, expecting the swift flash of his eyes to judge my reaction that soon followed. I gulped, but held my ground. Our eyes held and the silence deepened. Flickers of electricity seemed to charge the atmosphere between us, and I shook my head to clear it, breaking eye contact. 

"I have to go," Victor murmured, his gaze settled once again on the bank of clouds.

"All right." Opening the door, I carefully stepped out, letting the arctic draft that blew my hair back clear my head. I shut the door behind me, not looking back as I made my way up to the front step. The soft whir of the automatic window rolling down made me turn.

"Oh, and Yuuri?" he called, the lilt returning to his voice, accent deepening. He spoke English for the most part, assumingly for my benefit, and I never once questioned why. (My Russian wasn't anywhere near fluent anyway.)

"Yes?"

He leaned toward the window, a faint upward tilt to his lips. "Tomorrow, it's my turn, all right?"

"Your turn to what?" I asked, nose scrunching in thought.

He smiled wider, flashing his gleaming teeth. "To ask the questions, of course! Have a good night, Yuuri~!"

Before I could do more than blink away my confusion, the car sped down the street and disappeared around the corner. Smiling, I walked inside and out of the biting cold. It was clear he was planning to see me tomorrow, if nothing else.

That night, my dreams were haunted by a myriad of colors, some sticking out more than others; silver being the most predominant one. There was also gold, ice blue, and crimson. However, the feeling of hot and cold all at once followed me into the strains of my unconscious mind. I tossed and turned restlessly, waking often. It was only in the early hours of the morning that I finally sank into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.

***

When I woke to the blare of my alarm, I was still groggy and tired. I pulled on a green turtleneck and jeans, ran a brush through my hair, and tugged on my pair of thick boots. Breakfast was the usual, quiet affair. I helped Toshiya make a batch of _syrniki_ , and we sat across from each other to eat. I idly wondered if he had forgotten about this Saturday. As if on cue, he answered my unspoken question as he stood up to take his plate to the sink.

"Yuuri, about this Saturday..," he began, walking across the kitchen and turning on the faucet.

I frowned. "Yes, Dad?"

"Are you still going to Moscow?" he asked?

"That was the plan, yes." I grimaced, wishing he hadn't brought it up so I wouldn't have to lie.

He squeezed some dish soap onto his plate and swirled it around with the brush. "Are you sure you can't make it back in time for the dance?"

"I'm not going to the dance, Dad." I sighed, ducking my head to escape scrutiny.

"Didn't anyone ask you?" He tie hiding his concern by focusing on rinsing the plate.

I immediately sidestepped that minefield. "It's a girl's choice."

"I see." My father knew well how much I had changed since I was little. As soon as I turned eighteen, I'd made the decision; five years later, here I was, feeling more at home in my own skin than I used to. He said nothing more on the subject as he dried his plate, and I was grateful.

It must be strange being a father to someone like me, living in fear that your son would meet someone he liked, and worried that he wouldn't. Toshiya was aware of my preferences, but I wisely chose not to inform him of the type of man I _did_ like.

Toshiya left then, waving goodbye, and I went upstairs to brush my teeth and gather my books. When I heard the cruiser pull away, I gave it a few seconds before peeking out of my window. The silver blue car was just pulling up to the curb, parking smoothly in Toshiya's spot. I bounded out the front door, locked it behind me, and dashed downstairs and outside, wondering how long this bizarre routine would continue. I hoped it never stopped.

Victor waited in the car for me as I approached. I walked to the car, duffel bag slung over my shoulder, pausing shyly before opening the door and stepping in. He was smiling radiantly and seemed very relaxed. 

"Good morning, Yuuri!" He sounded excited to see me, like a child with their favorite aunt. "How are you today?" His eyes searched my face, as if his question was something more than simple courtesy.

"Good, thank you." I was nearly always in a good mood when I was around him. His enthusiasm was infectious.

His crystalline gaze lingered on the circles under my eyes. "You look tired."

"I couldn't sleep," I confessed, trying to fluff up my hair a bit.

"Neither could I," he teased as he started up the engine. I was becoming used to the quiet purr, and was sure the roar of my car would scare me whenever I got to drive it again.

I chuckled. "I guess you're right. I suppose I slept just a little bit more than you did."

"Probably."

"Did you do anything fun last night?" I asked, attempting to make conversation.

"Ah, ah, ah, Yuuri!" he tutted, waving a finger back and forth. "Today is _my_ day to ask the questions."

"Oh, right. Um, what do you want to know?" I couldn't imagine anything about me would interest him too much.

"What's your favorite color?" he asked, expression open and inviting.

"It changes from time to time," I answered easily. This was fine, and as long as he didn't ask anything too intrusive, I would give honest answers to whatever he asked. 

"Oh? What's your favorite color today?" 

"Probably brown," I admitted with a shrug.

"Oh? Why brown?" he asked.

"Well, I sort of miss brown. Brown is _nice_. It reminds me of warm tea after a hot bath. Everything here is just so.. _white_." 

He seemed fascinated by my little rant, staring into my eyes as he considered his next words.

"You're right," he decided, a smile lighting up his features. "Brown _is_ nice."

Thankfully, we had just arrived at the academy. He turned back to me as he smoothly slid into a parking space.

"What kinds of music do you like?" he asked, turning the engine off and giving me his full and undivided attention. 

"A little bit of everything, really." I didn't have many dislikes when it came to music.

"Favorite genre?" Before I could open my mouth to answer, he held up a finger to stop me. " _Other_ than classical."

I snorted. "Not all dancers like classical music, you know."

He shrugged, undoing his seatbelt buckle. "I've yet to meet a dancer who hated classical, and I doubt I ever will." I rolled my eyes and said nothing, conceding the point. "You still haven't told me your favorite, though," he reminded me.

Right. Favorite music genre. It was a bit of a guilty pleasure, and I was sure Victor would have more refined tastes. His eyes never left mine, and I began to fidget.

"Um, promise not to judge?"

He looked scandalized at the very thought, placing a hand against his sternum and looking affronted, though his crystalline eyes twinkled. "Why, Yuuri! I would _never_ judge my favorite student for anything."

I froze, hand halfway to undoing the seatbelt clasp. "I'm your.. favorite?"

(Does not compute. Yuuri.exe has stopped working.)

"Of course!" He winked and I felt a little piece of myself die in response. "Couldn't you tell?"

Slowly, as though surfacing from a very deep pool of dark water, I nodded absently, finally managing to undo the seatbelt clasp. Victor said nothing more, just waited patiently for my answer to what was really the most mundane question I'd ever been asked.

Taking a deep breath, I stared out the windshield at the students making their way to class, ducking my head every time I spotted a familiar face. "Pop music."

Victor's eyes sparkled as he reached under his car's CD player, flipping open a hidden compartment. About thirty or so CDs lay crammed into the small space. Glancing over the titles, I found out most of them were by either pop artists from around the world, or classical CDs, all arranged in no particular order.

"See, Yuuri? There's no need to be embarrassed." He slowly reached over, patting my hand affectionately before quickly withdrawing. It felt like he'd shoved it in the snow. "I'm rather fond of pop music myself."

I didn't terribly mind the small contact. As long as he didn't invade my personal space or move too quickly, I was okay with touching. 

His questions continued like that for the rest of the day. While walking me to French, during the lunch period, and before and after his class. He questioned me relentlessly about every single facet of my life. Movies I'd liked and disliked, the few places I'd been, and books - endlessly books.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd talked so much. More often than not, I felt self-conscious, certain I must be boring him. If it wasn't for the absolutely absorbed look on his face and his never ending stream of questions, I wouldn't have kept going. For the most part, his questions were easy, only a very few triggering an easy blush. When I did, it brought on a whole new round of questions.

Like the time he asked about my favorite gemstone and I blurted out aquamarine without thinking. He'd been flinging questions at me with such dizzying speed, I felt like I was playing one of those games in elementary school where you blurted out the first word that came to mind depending on the letter the teacher gave you. I was sure he would continue down whatever mental list he was following if my cheeks hadn't flared pink in response. Until very recently, my favorite gemstone had been topaz. It was impossible, while staring back into his sparkling teal eyes, not to remember the reason for the switch. Naturally, he wouldn't rest until I'd admitted why I was embarrassed.

"Tell me?" he pleaded, sticking out his bottom lip in an adorable pout. He _had_ been true to his word so far - never judging me for any of my tastes. (Except for my views on flannel. That was one thing I refused to budge on.)

"It's the color of your eyes today," I confessed, not meeting his eyes as I cleaned my glasses. "If you asked again in two weeks, I'd probably say diamond." I'd given more information than necessary, and I tried to calm my racing heart as I replaced my glasses on my face, worried that he might take offense.

Thankfully, the silence didn't last long.

"Do you like flowers? If so, what kinds?" he fired off.

I sighed in relief and continued with the Victor Nikiforov Inquisition™.

Physics was another complication entirely. Victor had continued with his questions until the warning bell rang, barely leaving me enough time to rush to my next class. Once again, I flopped into my chair with seconds to spare, and once again, I found myself on the receiving end of Yuri Plisetsky's narrowed green eyes.

"Um, hi, Yuri," I mumbled, unwilling to be cowed by a teenager - even if he _was_ a vampire.

He studied me for at least half a minute before answering, the last echoes of the klaxon fading in the corridor outside.

" _Svin'ya_ ," he muttered in greeting. 

I snorted. Was this _always_ how it was going to be?

Before I could respond, Mister Oda entered the room, dragging the audiovisual frame again. As he approached the light switch, I noticed Yuri slide his chair slightly farther away from mine. It didn't help much. As soon as the room went dark, the same hot and cold feeling from yesterday surfaced. 

I sincerely tried to watch the movie on the properties of electricity, but I was distracted for the whole period. When I glanced Yuri's way, he was resolutely staring at the television, or anywhere but at me. It sparked more theories about his mysterious gift. Victor could read minds, what if Yuri could manipulate someone's mood? Right now, I was slightly distracted, but otherwise, I felt good. I felt.. _calm_. It was so rare for me to feel any kind of peace, that I automatically embraced it, no matter where - or _who_ \- it came from.

At the end of the hour, Mister Oda flicked the lights back on, and I sat up to stretch. Tomorrow, regular lessons would resume, which brought out a groan from my peers. When the bell rang, Yuri stood smoothly from his chair, slow and deliberate, as though waiting for me to notice. Our eyes met, and the feeling intensified briefly before subsiding altogether.

" _Proshchay_." Some unnamed emotion flickered in the depths of his eyes before he pushed passed my chair and flitted out the door. 

"That kid," I muttered, shaking my head.

"Everything okay, Yuuri?" Minami asked, popping to my side and walking with me to the parking lot.

"Yeah, just.. trying to get used to not having my head bit off every day."

"Oh, you mean Yuri? He _does_ seem a bit nicer these days. I wonder why?" he mused, waving to one of his friends as they passed. 

"Why indeed?" I mumbled under my breath, too low for Minami to hear.

He walked with me to the parking lot, departing with a wave to his next class. I smiled as I spotted Victor leaning against the hood of his shiny silver blue Audi. He broke out in a brilliant grin in response, launching into more cross-examination as we climbed into the car and buckled up. 

His questions were different now, but not as easily answered. He wanted to know what I missed about home, asking for descriptions of anything he wasn't familiar with. We sat outside of Toshiya's flat for hours, the sky steadily growing darker, a sudden deluge of rain pummeling against the car windows. 

I tried to describe the scent of sakura - floral, sweet, and calming = the high, keening sound of the black-tailed seagulls in Spring; the lush greenery surrounding Hasetsu Castle nearly all year round; the very size of the sky, extending white-blue from one end of the horizon to the other, barely interrupted by the low mountains covered in snow. 

It was easy to explain why it was so beautiful to me. The surprise of an early Spring snowfall, the waves crashing relentlessly against the shore, the smell of the hot springs - steam, soap, and warm food - and the way the ocean looks bathed in twilight when you look out from the mile long bridge. I found myself using my hands as I tried to describe it to him.

His quiet, probing questions kept me talking freely, and helped keep my anxiety at bay, forgetting to be embarrassed for monopolizing the conversation in the wan grey light of the storm. Finally, when I had finished detailing my cluttered room at home - leaving out all the posters of figure skaters and the peeling Pokemon stickers stuck to the bedframe - he paused instead of responding with another question.

"Is the inquisition over?" I joked, relieved to have a moment to breathe.

"Oh, not even close! Your father will be home soon though, yes?"

"Toshiya!" A tendril of panic wormed its way into my gut before I forced myself to take a deep breath and relax. I looked out of the rain splattered window, into the darkening clouds, but it gave nothing away. "How late is it?" I wondered aloud as I glanced at the clock. I was surprised by the time - my father would be driving home right about now. 

"It's sunset," Victor murmured, looking out at the western horizon, obscured as it was with clouds. His ton was thoughtful, as though his mind were a million miles away. I stared at him, waiting patiently as he stared unseeingly into the distance. I was still staring when his eyes suddenly flickered back to mine.

"It's the safest time of day for us," he explained, answering the question I had just been about to ask. "It's the easiest time, and also the saddest in a way.. the end of another day, the advent of the night. It's all rather predictable, don't you think?" He smiled in a wistful sort of way. 

"I like the night. Without darkness, we'd never see the stars." I frowned, glancing out of the windshield into the pouring rain. "You don't really get to see them here much, though."

The sound of his melodic laughter snapped my attention back, and the mood abruptly lightened.

"The _starshina_ will be here in a few minutes. So, unless you want to tell him that you'll be with me on Saturday.." He trailed off suggestively, raising a thin silver eyebrow for emphasis.

"Ah, that's okay!" I quickly grabbed my duffel bag, realizing I was a bit stiff from sitting still so long. "So, is it my turn tomorrow, then?"

"We'll see, Yuuri. I still have some things I've yet to ask you."

"What more is there?" I blinked. Surely there wasn't much left to tell?

"Yuuri," he murmured, suddenly leaning into my personal space. His eyes were all I could see, half lidded and twinkling. I was vaguely aware of his hand sliding down my arm to clasp my fingers in his icy grip, the other coming up to gently grasp my chin, the pad of his thumb ghosting over my bottom lip. His breath fanned across my face, and I stopped breathing for all of thirty seconds. "I want to know _everything_ about you." The sudden proximity sent my heart into frenzied palpitations. On impulse, I jerked back, exhaling my held breath in a rush.

His eyes widened, and in a blur of motion, backed off with a muttered Russian oath. I spent the next few minutes trying not to pass out in the passenger seat of his car while I took deep, calming breaths. I was surprised to see his jaw clenched, eyes wide and hesitant.

It was another moment before he spoke. "Yuuri, I.. I'm very sorry. I forgot," he winced, clearing his throat and spearing me with the full force of his gaze, beseeching me. "I will _never_ do that again."

I swallowed, the hand not clenching the strap of my duffel bag in a death grip fumbling for the door handle. "I, um.. okay," I managed, finally getting a decent hold on the handle.

He sighed, hanging his head. "I just screwed up, didn't I?" He shook his head, a bitter laugh chilling the space between us. "The first person I like in _decades_ , and I go and mess everything up royally." He finally glanced my way, shyly out of his peripheral.

I didn't want to say it was fine, because it wasn't. But I couldn't just let him stew in his own self-deprecation. "Apology accepted," I whispered, afraid that if I spoke any louder it would spook him. The irony wasn't lost on me.

He blinked, eyes brightening a fraction. "Are we still friends?" he asked, a hopeful lilt to his voice.

I nodded, managing a wan smile. "Still friends."

With exaggerated slowness, he extended a pale hand. Eyeing him carefully, I took the offered hand, giving it a stiff shake. His fingers lingered against mine, an icy balm on my frazzled nerves, and then they withdrew, his lips curling into a tiny heart shape.

As if someone had thrown a bucket of ice water over him, Victor's entire body froze, smile vanishing. 

"Not good," he muttered.

"W-what is it?" I asked, looking around for the culprit.

He glanced at me for a brief second. "Another complication," he said glumly. "I'm going to open the door, all right?"

With the same exaggerated slowness, he reached across my lap to fling the passenger door open, swiftly moving back, almost _cringing_ away from me.

I was fine. Sure, my heart rate picked up again at the close proximity, but he'd warned me what he was going to do before hand, so I was prepared this time. I didn't understand his behavior, and I opened my mouth to ask him what was wrong.

I never got the chance. The flash of headlights through the rain caught my attention as a dark car pulled up to the curb just a few feet away, facing us. 

"Toshiya's around the corner," he warned, staring through the downpour at the other vehicle.

With a hurried goodbye, I hopped out at once, despite my confusion and curiosity. The patter of the rain was louder as it glanced off my jacket.

I tried to make out the shapes in the front seat of the other car, but it was too dark. I could see Victor illuminated in the glare of the new car's headlights; he was still staring ahead, his gaze locked on someone or something I couldn't see. His expression was a strange mix of frustration and defiance.

Then he revved the engine, and the tires squealed against the wet pavement. The Audi was out of sight in seconds.

"Hey, Yuuri!" called a familiar, boyishly light voice from the driver's side of the little black car.

"Phichit?" I asked, squinting through the rain. Just then, Toshiya's cruiser swung around the corner, his lights shining on the occupants of the car in front of me.

Phichit was already climbing out, his wide grin visible even through the darkness. In the passenger seat was a much older man, laugh lines carved in the deeply tanned skin. His dark eyes were surprisingly familiar; they seemed too young and too old at the same time. Phichit's coach, Celestino Cialdini. I knew him immediately, though in the more than five years since I'd seen him last I'd managed to forget his name when Toshiya had spoken of him on my first day here. He was staring at me, scrutinizing my face, so I smiled tentatively at him. His eyes grew wide, as if in shock or fear, and his nostrils flared. My smile faded.

Another complication, Victor had said.

Celestino stared at me anxiously, his expression strained. I groaned internally. Had Celestino recognized Victor so easily? Could he really believe the legends his pupil had scoffed at?

The answer was clear in Celestino's eyes. Yes. Yes, he absolutely could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri, my dude, you gotta just... [clenches fist] go for it.
> 
> Eros - sexual passion. The first kind of love was eros, named after the Greek god of fertility, and it represented the idea of sexual passion and desire.  
> Agape - pure, unconditional love  
> Philautia - love of self  
> Pragma - longstanding love
> 
> syrniki - In Russian, Belarusian, Latvian, Lithuanian, Serbian and Ukrainian cuisines, syrniki are fried quark pancakes, garnished with sour cream, varenye, jam, honey or applesauce.
> 
> Svin'ya - pig in Russian lol  
> Proshchay - Goodbye in Russian
> 
> Notes:
> 
> Included another scene from the anime as per request. Unlike the anime, Victor actually apologizes for invading Yuuri's personal space bubble and also regrets doing so. I'm writing from memory until high speed data comes back from the war, then I can rewatch the anime. (Dubbed version, because I never finished it before I moved. Seduce me, Gru.)
> 
> If my crush ever winked at me, I would also die a little inside. Major dokis were had here.
> 
> Yuuri seems like a pop music loving guy to me, but he'd be real shy about it at first. I debated what kind of gemstone he might like, but in the end, I just said fuck it, and went with topaz. I considered diamond, but thought that would be cliche af, so I scrapped that idea.
> 
> Yuuri likes flannel, and Victor doesn't really see the appeal.
> 
> Yuuri's audition was the hardest part of the chapter to write. I'm sure I messed up somewhere - I am only human after all - and if so, let me know so I can try and fix it. Writing the anime scenes from memory sucks.
> 
> Victor is trying his best. Someone get him a tall glass of water, cause this man is #thirsty.


	13. Balancing Act

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor asks more questions, and Yuuri finally sorts out his feelings.
> 
> (For the most part.)
> 
> One mystery has yet to be solved..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for not updating in so long. My home life is a mess that only gets worse with each passing month. But, my problems are my own, and hopefully I'll have more time to write once all this rain hecks off.
> 
> Yuri is mentioned a couple times, but does not actually appear this chapter. However, we do finally get to meet Mila!
> 
> I included another scene from the anime, and if you spot it, let me know!
> 
> Thank you all for sticking with me, and I hope you enjoy! <3

"Celestino!" Toshiya called as soon as he got out of the car. 

I turned toward the house, beckoning to Phichit as I ducked under the porch. I heard Toshiya greeting them loudly behind me.

"I see you're driving again, Phichit," he said by way of greeting, a tired smile gracing his features.

"Yup! Couldn't wait to get back on the road," Phichit replied in his usual cheerful manner while I held open the door to the apartment building.

"I'm sure you couldn't," Toshiya laughed.

"I have to get around somehow." I recognized Celestino's resonant voice easily, despite the years. The sound of it made me feel suddenly younger, a child. 

I went inside, leaving the door open behind me and trudged upstairs to our flat, unlocking the door. Holding it open for the others, I flicked the lights on and hung up my jacket. Standing in the doorway, I watched anxiously as Toshiya and Phichit helped Celestino over the thresh hold. They took the small elevator while I'd hurried up the stairs to wait for them.

I backed out of the way as the three of them strolled in, shaking off the rain.

"This is a surprise," Toshiya was saying.

"It's been too long," Celestino answered. "I hope it's not a bad time." His dark eyes flashed up to me, their expression unreadable.

"No, it's wonderful to have you. I hope you can stay for the competition." Right, figure skating. I'd forgotten the World Championships were coming up.

Phichit grinned. "I think that's the plan. Ours broke last week."

Celestino made a face at his pupil. "Of course, Phichit was anxious to see Yuuri again," he added. Phichit shrugged, not bothering to deny the claim. The only contact we'd had since the beach outing was texting here and there.

"Are you hungry?" I asked, turning toward the kitchen. I was eager to escape Celestino's searching gaze.

"Nah, we ate just before we came," Phichit answered.

"How about you, Dad?" I called over my shoulder as I fled around the corner.

"Anything is fine," he replied, voice moving in the direction of the front room and the television. I could hear Celestino's chair follow. 

The borscht was nearly done when I sensed someone behind me.

"Sooooo, how are things?" Phichit asked.

"Pretty good," I smiled, turning to greet my friend. His enthusiasm was hard to resist. "How about you? Did you finish your car?"

"Not yet," he pouted. "I still need some parts. We borrowed the one out front." He jerked his chin in the direction of the front door.

That reminded me of something. "Sorry. I haven't seen any.. what was it you were looking for?"

"Master cylinder." He grinned. "Is something wrong with the truck?" he asked curiously.

"No, why?"

He shrugged. "I just wondered because you weren't driving it."

I stared down at the pot, idly stirring the mixture. "One of my teachers was kind enough to give me a ride."

"Oh yeah? Nice car." Phichit's admiring tone was not lost on me. "I didn't recognize the driver, though. I thought I knew most of the old guys around here."

I choked back a snort, passing it off as a cough. I hoped Victor hadn't heard that bit.

"Ciao Ciao seemed to know him from somewhere," he mused, patting me on the back.

"Could you get me some bowls? They're in the cupboard over the sink."

"Sure thing."

He pocketed his phone, grabbing the bowls in silence. I was hoping he would let the subject drop.

"So, who was it?" he asked, setting two bowls on the counter next to me. No such luck, then.

Knowing Phichit, he would just keep asking, or worse, ask his coach. I sighed in defeat. It would be less awkward if I told him. "Victor Nikiforov, my Classical Dance teacher."

To my surprise, he laughed. When I glanced up at him, he seemed a little embarrassed.

"Guess that explains it, then. I wondered why Ciao Ciao was acting so strangely," he said.

"That's right," I said, trying to remain casual. "He doesn't like the Nikiforovs."

"Superstitious old man," Phichit muttered, rolling his eyes.

"You don't think he'd say anything to Toshiya, do you?" I couldn't help asking, the words coming out in an anxious rush. 

Phichit stared at me for a moment, deep grey eyes unreadable. "Nah, I doubt it," he finally answered. "I think Toshiya chewed him out pretty good last time. They haven't spoken much since. I think tonight is sort of a reunion for them. I don't think he'd bring it up again."

"I see," I murmured, trying to sound indifferent.

I stayed in the front room after carrying the food out to Toshiya, pretending to watch the figure skaters while Phichit chattered at me and scrolled through social media at the same time. I was really trying to listen to the men's conversation, watching for any sign that Celestino was about to rat me out. I tried to think of ways to stop him if he did, but nothing really came to mind.

It turned out to be a long night. I had a lot of homework that I was leaving undone, but I was afraid to leave Celestino alone with Toshiya. Finally, the competition ended.

"Are you and your friends coming back to the beach soon?" Phichit asked as he pushed his coach over the lip of the threshold.

"I'm not sure," I replied, smiling uncertainly.

"That was fun, Toshiya," Celestino said.

"You're welcome to come up for the next competition," Toshiya encouraged.

"Sure thing," Celestino replied. "We'll be here. Have a good night." His gaze centered on me, and his smile disappeared. "You take care, Yuuri," he murmured seriously.

"T-thanks," I stammered, looking away.

With a final wave to Phichit, I headed for the hallway while Toshiya shut the front door, going to look out of the window to make sure his friend got home safely. 

"Wait, Yuuri," he called.

I cringed. Had Celestino gotten something in before I'd joined them in the living room?

Thankfully, my father seemed relaxed, still smiling softly from the unexpected visit.

"I didn't get the chance to talk to you tonight. How was your day?"

"Good." I hesitated, one foot in the doorway of my room, searching for details I could safely share. "My audition the other day went well."

"Oh? Did you get the part you auditioned for?"

"I won't know until next week, probably. A lot of people from each class auditioned for my part."

"Oh? Like who?" he asked, curiosity flickering in the depths of his kind eyes.

"Um, I'm not sure about my part, but my friend Ketty Abelashvili auditioned at the same time I did." I felt like honesty was the best policy with my dad, even if I always seemed to butcher her last name.

"Ah, that's right. You did mention being friends with her." He seemed to perk up. "She's a nice girl. Why didn't you ask her to the dance this weekend?"

"Dad..." I groaned. "Even if I _wanted_ to, my friend Minami already asked her." I was the one who suggested they go together in the first place.

"Well, I suppose it's a good thing you'll be gone Saturday, then. I made plans to go fishing with some of my coworkers. The weather is supposed to be pretty mild, but if you'd like to put your trip off until someone can go with you, I can stay home. I know I leave you here alone enough as it is." He smiled apologetically, eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Dad, you're doing a great job." I smiled, hoping my relief didn't show. "I've never minded being alone - I'm a lot like you in that respect." I winked at him, and he smiled his crinkly-eyed smile in return.

***

I slept better that night, too tired to dream again. Or perhaps I was too tired to remember what I'd dreamed. When I woke to the pearl grey morning, I felt blissfully content. The tense evening with Celestino and Phichit seemed harmless enough now; I decided to forget it for the moment. I caught myself humming along to my audition piece as I slicked my hair back with a few swipes of hair gel, and again as I drifted down the hall. Toshiya noticed, of course.

"You're cheerful this morning," he commented over breakfast.

I shrugged. "It's Friday."

I hurried so I would be ready to go the second Toshiya left for work. I had my duffel bag ready, shoes on, and my teeth brushed. Even though I peeked out of the window as soon as I was sure Toshiya would be out of sight, Victor was faster. He was waiting in his shiny car, windows down, engine off.

Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I locked up the flat and skipped down the stairs, careful not to trip on the way down. Sometimes the grace of a dancer wasn't enough to save yourself from.. yourself.

I hesitated before climbing in the passenger side, unsure how Victor might react today but willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. The hint of a smile quirked at the corners of his lips, so at least he was still happy to see me. I smiled in return to let him know the feeling was mutual.

"Good morning, Yuuri," he murmured, the soft lilt of his accent a welcoming sound despite yesterday's misunderstanding. "How are you feeling?"

"Morning, Victor," I replied, feeling shy. "I'm good. How are you?"

"Good. How did you sleep?" I wondered if he had any idea how lovely his voice was.

"Fine. How was your night?"

"Dreadful without you," he sighed, an exaggerated motion accompanied by a wistful, far off look in his eyes. I couldn't help but laugh, noticing how his crystalline eyes danced as he smiled that familiar heart shaped grin in response.

"Can I ask what you did?" I asked after my laughter had quieted and he'd started the car.

"No." He wagged his finger at me, his mood considerably lighter than when I first climbed into the car. "Today is still _mine_."

He wanted to know about people today; more about Hiroko, her hobbies, what we'd done in our free time together, as well as the one grandmother I'd known. I told him about the few friends I'd made back in Detroit, flushing in eternal embarrassment when he asked about any past lovers.

"T-that's classified," I muttered, fidgeting under his earnest blue gaze.

"Want to hear about _my_ past lovers? There was this one time--"

I panicked, waving my hands about in a frenzy. "Nononononononono!!"

I was relieved that I'd never really dated anyone, so that particular conversation didn't last long. He seemed as surprised as Yuuko and Ketty by my lack of romantic history.

"So, you've _never_ met anyone you wanted?" he asked, tone dripping in curiosity.

"N-no one in America or Japan." I was fidgeting again, but I couldn't help it.

His eyes seemed to sparkle, but he just smiled and said nothing, keeping a respectful distance across the table from me. 

By this time, we were in the cafeteria. The day had sped by in a blur that was rapidly becoming routine. I took advantage of the brief pause to take a bite of my bagel. 

"I should have let you drive yourself today," he frowned, as if just realizing something he forgot.

"Why?" I asked between mouthfuls.

"I'm leaving with Mila after lunch."

"Oh." I blinked, swallowing my disappointment. "That's okay, I don't mind walking."

The look on his face could only be described as scandalized, as though I just suggested we live underground as mole people. (I _really_ needed to text Phichit less.)

"I'm not going to make you _walk_ home, Yuuri! We can get your car and leave it here for you, if you like."

"I don't have my key with me," I sighed. "I really don't mind walking, you know." What I minded was losing out on Friday afternoon's tutoring session with him.

He shook his head. "Where did you leave your key? I promise we'll have your car here, with the key in the ignition."

I took a minute to think about that. Letting Victor into our flat - without anyone being home - was a little unnerving. The thought of one of his siblings alone in my flat was downright terrifying.

"Um, you would need my house key..," I began, reaching into my pocket to grab the keychain.

"I'll send Mila if you'd be more comfortable with that. She's less likely to nose around the place."

It was a generous offer. I'd feel slightly more at ease if I met her first, but the alternative was walking through the afternoon rush traffic, and in a city as big as St. Petersburg, that had danger written all over it. I was loathe to part with my privacy, but if Victor assured me she'd keep her hands to herself, it would have to do.

"All right," I agreed, pursing my lips as I tossed Victor my house key. He caught it deftly in one hand, just slow enough for my eyes to catch the movement.

"I promise she won't go anywhere she is not supposed to." He even held up his hand as though giving an oath. 

"I trust you." Besides, I think I'd left my key in the back pocket of a pair of jeans hanging on the arm of the rocking chair in the corner of my room. Even if they had my house key, Mila would never find it. He seemed to sense the challenge in my consent. A grin spread across his face. I'd already given my consent, no use in taking it back now.

"So, where are you going?" I asked as casually as I could manage.

"Hunting," he answered grimly. "If I'm going to be alone with you tomorrow, I'm going to take whatever precautions I can." He seemed wistful, like going off to feed was the last thing he wanted to do. "You are still free to cancel, of course."

I kept my eyes on my food, cautious of the persuasive power of his eyes. I wasn't so much afraid of him as I was wary, despite the very real danger. _It doesn't matter_ , I thought.

"No," I whispered, glancing back up at his face. "I can't."

"Wonderful!" he crowed, clapping his hands together once and causing a couple of nearby underclassmen to glare. 

I quickly changed the subject. "What time will I see you tomorrow?" I asked, making a mental note to set my alarm.

"Well, that depends. Since it's a Saturday, would you like to sleep in?" he offered.

"No, I don't mind getting up early on a weekend." I used to do it all the time for skating practice back in Detroit.

"The same time as usual, then," he decided, twirling my house key around his finger before pocketing it. "Will your father be there?"

"No, he's fishing tomorrow." I smiled at the memory of how conveniently things had worked out.

"What will the good _Starshina_ think if I keep you out past curfew?" He raised a perfectly sculpted silver brow. 

"I have no idea," I laughed. "I haven't had a curfew since I left for college at eighteen."

We shared a moment of quiet laughter. The soft buzz of conversation around us seemed to diminish in our shared bubble. 

"What are you hunting tonight?" I asked when the lively moment had passed.

"Whatever - or whoever - we find in the park. We won't go far." He seemed bemused by my casual reference to his secret. 

I had to remind myself that the Nikiforovs didn't kill their prey. If I didn't know any better, I would say they even took their injured human prey to the hospital where Doctor Nikiforov worked. It made sense to me, at least.

"Why are you going with Mila?" I wondered.

"Mila is the most.. supportive." He folded his hands on the table as he spoke.

"And the others? What are they?" I asked timidly.

He snorted. "Ridiculous for the most part."

I took a quick peek behind me at his family. They sat staring off in different directions, hardly touching their food, exactly the same as the first time I saw them. Only now, there were four; their silver-haired brother sat across from me, his aquamarine eyes glittering with mischief.

"They don't like me," I guessed.

"That's not it," he disagreed. "They just don't understand why I can't leave you alone."

"Neither do I for that matter," I muttered under my breath, knowing he would hear me anyway.

Victor shook his head slowly, rolling his eyes heavenward before fixing his gaze back to mine. "I told you, you don't see yourself clearly at all. You're not like anyone I've ever known, Yuuri. You fascinate me."

I flushed, sure he was teasing me now. There was no way that someone like the _gorgeous_ Victor Nikiforov could ever be taken with someone like me. I couldn't stop myself from hoping, though.

He smiled, deciphering my expression. "Having the advantages I do," he murmured, discreetly touching his temple. "I have a better than average grasp of human nature. People are predictable. But you never seem to do what I expect. You always take me by surprise, Yuuri."

I looked away, my eyes wandering back to his family, embarrassed and dissatisfied. His words made me feel like a science experiment. I wanted to laugh at myself for expecting anything else.

"That part is easy enough to explain," he continued. I felt his eyes on my face, but I couldn't look at him yet, afraid he might read the chagrin in my eyes. "But there's more.. and it's not so easy to put into words--"

I was still staring at the Nikiforovs as he spoke. Suddenly Anya, his beautiful brunette sister, turned to look at me. No, that was _definitely_ a glare, her dark, cold eyes simmering with anger. I tried to look away, but her gaze held me in place until Victor broke off mid-sentence and made an angry noise under his breath, almost like a hiss.

Anya turned her head, and I was relieved to be free. I looked back at Victor, and I knew he could see the confusion and fear in my wide eyes. 

His smile was strained as he explained. "I'm sorry about that. She's just worried. You see, Yuuri... it's dangerous for more than just me if, after spending so much time with you so publicly.." He glanced down at his folded hands.

"If?" I clarified.

"If this ends.. badly." He lowered his head, mercury fringe obscuring his eyes. His sadness was easy enough to read; I was unsure if I should comfort him, but I was at a loss. My hand reached toward him involuntarily, but I quickly dropped it on the table, suddenly conscious of where we were. I realized pretty quickly that his words should frighten me. They did, on some deep level, but not in the way they were meant to. Instead of fearing for my own safety, I feared for _his_.

I also felt a bit frustrated. Had Anya not interrupted, I felt like I would have finally understood the man behind the vampire. I didn't know how to bring it up again, though. Victor still had his hair in his eyes, resting his forehead on his folded hands.

I sighed, searching for anything to reassure him and coming up with nothing. "You have to leave now, don't you?"

"Yes." He raised his face; his eyes were narrowed, a furrow appearing on his marble brow before his expression softened into an apologetic smile. "I still have auditions to consider after all, and this will give me a little more time to think."

A head of bright red hair bounded into view, and I started a bit at its appearance. Mila - her short, wavy red hair that curled at her chin to frame an exquisite elfin face - was suddenly standing behind Victor's shoulder. Her willowy frame seemed graceful, even at a standstill, and I couldn't help but picture her out on the ice in a full Ina Bauer.

Victor greeted his sister without looking away from me. "Hello, Mila."

"Hey, Victor," she answered, her alto voice lending a beautiful lilt to her words, much like her brother's, with an accent to match.

"Mila, Yuuri - Yuuri, Mila," he introduced us, gesturing casually with a lazy, graceful flick of the wrist, a wry smile settling onto his face.

"Hi, Yuuri.~ Did you know you have the same name as our dear little brother?" I nodded, smiling sheepishly. Her opaque grey eyes seemed to dance and sparkle, a trait I was coming to associate with all of the Nikiforovs. "It's nice to finally meet you."

Victor rolled his eyes.

"Hi, Mila," I murmured shyly.

"Are you ready?" she asked him.

"Nearly. I'll meet you at the car in a few minutes." He only looked away from me once to address her, and they seemed to exchange a knowing look, although it could have been my imagination.

She nodded, leaving without another word, tossing a wave over her shoulder. Her walk was so fluid, so sinuous, that I immediately felt inadequate by comparison.

"Should I say 'have fun', or is that the wrong sentiment?" I asked, turning back to him as soon as Mila's telltale red bob disappeared.

"No, 'have fun' works just fine, Yuuri." He grinned, a flash of perfect white teeth in the overhead lighting.

"Um, have fun, then." I tried to sound sincere, but of course I couldn't fool him.

"I'll try." He was still grinning. "Please try to be safe while I'm gone."

"Safe in St. Petersburg - now _that's_ a challenge."

He snorted softly. "For you, perhaps." His expression turned suddenly serious. "Promise me, please."

"I promise to try to be safe," I recited, even going so far as to hold up a hand as he had before. "I'll do the laundry tonight - that ought to involve at _least_ one trip under the bed."

"Try not to fall in the washer, now," he teased.

"I'll do my best."

He rose from his chair, and I figured if he was leaving, it was time for me to go as well.

"See you tomorrow, Victor," I murmured, knowing he would hear me even over the din of conversation.

"I'll be there in the morning," he promised, smiling my favorite heart-shaped smile.

He reached across the table to pat my hand - once, twice, and then he turned to leave. I stared after him, watching as he paid a brief visit to the teacher's table before leaving the cafeteria proper. I was sorely tempted to ditch my tutoring session, knowing Victor wouldn't be there, but a warning instinct stopped me. Minako always took over when Victor was absent, and she took no prisoners. It wasn't worth the trouble.

If the teachers started getting suspicious that there was something going on between one of their own and a student - even if it was innocent flirting - it could prove difficult for both parties involved. Victor was worried about the time he spent with me publicly, and if things went south..

No, I refused to indulge in that last thought. Instead, I concentrated on making things safer for him, and ultimately, his family as well.

Maybe my intuition was kicking in, and perhaps Victor knew it as well - tomorrow would be pivotal for our relationship. We knew more about each other now, so it wouldn't just be based on attraction. Those kinds of relationships never lasted long. Ours could not continue to balance on the edge of a knife - it would tip one way or the other, and I had a feeling it would all depend on his decision, his instincts. I had already made my decision - I could no longer pretend I didn't feel _something_ for Victor Nikiforov. Whether it was purely infatuation, or something else entirely, I _knew_ it existed. I couldn't turn back now.

I went to my tutoring lesson, feeling dutiful. Minako put me through the paces, even teaching me something new: a trick she'd picked up from her prima ballerina days. She hoped it would help with my landings. I hoped it would help with landing a quad salchow, something I'd had difficulty with for awhile now. Something was missing; I kept under rotating on the landing every time I'd tried in the past. Whatever it was, I'd figure it out.

I didn't have Physics on Fridays, so I was spared the patented Yuri Plisetsky Sass™ for three whole days. Regardless, I walked to the parking lot without enthusiasm, dying to put my feet up for just five minutes. I did not really want to walk home, especially after my extra dance lesson with Minako, but I couldn't see how Mila would have retrieved my car. Then again, I was starting to believe that nothing was impossible if you were a Nikiforov. The latter instinct proved correct. My car sat in the same space he'd parked his Audi in this morning. I shook my head, astounded, as I opened the unlocked door and saw the key in the ignition.

There was a piece of white paper folded in my seat. I got in and closed the door before I unfolded it. My house key, the familiar jangle of my poodle head key chain a pretty good indicator, fell into the palm of my hand. Shaking my head in fond amusement, I studied the words written in his elegant script.

See you tomorrow, _solnyshko_! Please be safe. 

There was even a tiny drawing of Victor's face, his mouth open in a silly heart-shaped grin. I had a quiet laugh over that one. The sound of my car roaring to life startled me. I had another laugh, this time at my own expense.

When I got home, the handle of the door was locked, the deadbolt unlocked, just as I'd left it this morning. Inside, I went straight to my room. It looked the same as I'd left it, too. I spotted my jeans immediately and dug through all the pockets. Empty. _Maybe I hung my key up after all_ , I thought, shaking my head.

I called Yuuko to wish her luck at the dance. When she offered a spot with the rest of the group, I told her about the cancellation. She was more disappointed than really necessary for a third-party observer to be. I hung up quickly after that.

Toshiya was absent minded at dinner. Maybe he was worried about something to do with work, or maybe he was just really enjoying the food - it was hard to tell with my father.

"You know, Dad..," I began, breaking into his train of thought.

"What's that, Yuuri?"

"I think you're right about Moscow. I think I'll wait until Yuuko or someone else can go with me."

"Oh," he said, clearly surprised. "All right, then. Do you want me to stay home?"

"No, Dad, don't change your plans. I've got tons of things to do. Homework, laundry.. I need to go to the library and the grocery store. I'll be in and out all day. You go have fun, okay?"

"Are you sure?" he frowned, concern etched in his weathered face.

"Absolutely. Besides, the freezer is getting quite a bit low on fish. We might only have a two year's supply left."

"I'm glad you're easy to live with, Yuuri." He smiled.

"I could say the same thing about you," I teased. I felt so guilty for deceiving him that I almost took Victor's advice and told him where I would be. _Almost._

After dinner, I folded clothes and did a load of laundry as promised. Unfortunately, it was the kind of job that kept hands busy. My mind definitely had too much free time, and it was getting slightly out of control. I fluctuated between sharp spikes of anxiety and brief moments of utter silence. I had to keep reminding myself that I'd made my choice, and I wasn't going to back out now. I pulled Victor's note out of my back pocket far more often than necessary to absorb the few words he had written. He wants me to be safe, no matter what. I would just hold onto the faith that, in the end, that desire would hold out over the others. 

A tiny voice in the back of my mind worried, wondering if it would hurt _very_ much if it ended.. badly.

I was relieved when it was late enough to be acceptable to call it a night and head to bed. Normally, I would have been too anxious to sleep, but my extra dance lesson had tired me out more than I thought. While I waited for the gears in my brain to stop turning, I dried my hair until it was smooth and silky to the touch, and fussed over what I would wear tomorrow.

With everything ready for the morning, I set my alarm and finally flopped into bed, only to get back up and put on some calming music - a collection of Chopin's nocturnes - before snuggling under thc covers. The volume was low enough to pass for background noise, and I concentrated on trying to formulate a short program to the soothing tunes. Somewhere in the middle of the exercise, I'd finally calmed down, and gladly sank into unconsciousness.

***

I woke early, having slept soundly despite my earlier bout with anxiety. Yuuri: 1 Anxiety: 0. Even though I was well rested, I still slipped back into the same hectic frenzy from the night before. Yuuri: 1 Anxiety: 1. I dressed in a rush, fussing with the collar of my shirt, even fidgeting with the beige sweater until it hung just right over my jeans. I snuck a quick look out of the kitchen window to see that Toshiya had already left. A whispy layer of clouds veiled the sky, but they didn't look like they would persist into the afternoon.

I ate breakfast without really tasting the food, hurrying to clean up when I was done. I peeked out the window again, but nothing had changed. I had just finished brushing my teeth and was heading back down the hall when a quiet knock sent my heart thumping into overdrive.

I dashed to the door, fumbling with the deadbolt as I tried to unlock the stupid thing. Finally, I flung the door open, locking eyes with the vampire that stood so casually on my doorstep. I breathed a sigh of relief - yesterday's anxiety seemed like a forgotten dream. 

Victor waved, taking in my flushed cheeks and slicked back hair. I'd been doing that a lot lately instead of just leaving it down like I usually did. I figured it made me seem more mature, if not somewhat decent looking.

"Good morning, Yuuri," he chuckled.

"What's wrong?" I glanced down to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything, like shoes, or pants.

"We match!" He laughed again, pointing to himself. He had on a long tan sweater, a white collar visible underneath, and dark jeans. I laughed with him, hiding a secret twinge of jealousy. Why did _he_ have to look like a runway model when I couldn't?

I locked up the flat while he made for the stairwell. I caught up with him halfway down to the next floor. Neither one of us spoke as we made our way outside and to my car parked at the curb. He waited by the passenger door wearing a martyred expression that was easy to understand.

"We made a deal, remember?" I reminded him, climbing into the driver's seat and reaching over to unlock his door. "Where to?" I asked, buckling my seatbelt and sticking my key in the ignition, waiting until he climbed in and shut the door behind him to start the car. He didn't seem phased by the load roar of the engine.

"Please put your seatbelt on, I'm nervous already." I raised a brow, but complied with the request without fuss. "Go down the next street and turn right onto the highway," he instructed once I was ready.

It was surprisingly difficult to concentrate on the road while feeling his eyes on my face the whole time. I compensated by driving more carefully than usual through the early morning traffic.

"Were you planning on making it out of the city by nightfall?" he teased, tapping out a gentle staccato rhythm on his knee.

"This car is old enough to be your car's grandfather - have some respect, please," I retorted.

We made it out of the city in good time, despite Victor's insistence that he should have been the one to drive. Thick underbrush and moss covered rock formations replaced the drab concrete buildings.

"Turn right here," he instructed just as I was about to ask. I obeyed silently. "Now we drive until the road ends."

I could hear the smile in his voice, but I was too afraid of driving off the road and proving him right to look over and be sure.

"What's there, at the end?" I wondered.

"A hiking trail."

"We're hiking?" Thank goodness I'd worn thick boots just in case it rained.

"Is that a problem?" He sounded uncertain, like he probably should have thought of that before hand.

"No." I wish he'd thought to bring some water or something, but if it wasn't too far, I would be fine.

"Don't worry, it's only five miles or so, and we're in no hurry." Five miles, huh. That wasn't too bad. I could handle five miles. "What are you thinking, Yuuri?" he asked after a few moments.

"Just wondering where we're going."

"It's a place I like to go when the weather is nice." We both glanced out the windows at the thinning clouds, gauging the weather.

"Toshiya said it would be a mild day today."

"And did you tell Toshiya what you were up to?" he asked.

So much for making casual conversation. "Nope."

"Does Yuuko still think we're going to Moscow together?" He seemed cheered by the idea.

"No I told her the truth, that you'd canceled on me."

"So, no one knows you're with me?" He sounded curious now.

"Didn't you tell Mila?" 

"Well, she would have known regardless," he shrugged, and I was content to drop the subject, but I filed that remark away to ask about later.

We were silent for the rest of the drive. I could think of nothing else to say, and Victor seemed perfectly at ease, with nothing but the soft rumble of the engine in the background.

The road eventually ended at a small foot trail, blocked off by a wooden gate. I parked on the narrow shoulder and stepped out, shutting my door behind me. It was warmer today; still chilly, but much less so since I first arrived in St. Petersburg. I pulled off my sweater and tied it around my waist, glad that I'd worn long sleeves under it - especially since I had five miles of hiking ahead of me. 

I heard his door slam, and looked over to see that he'd removed his sweater, too. His back was to me, facing towards the forest beside my car.

"This way, Yuuri!" he called, glancing over his shoulder at me, eyes sparkling with excitement. He started into the dark forest.

"The trail, right?" I clarified, hurrying around the car to catch up with him.

"Oh, we're not taking the trail today."

"We're not?" I frowned. My sense of direction wasn't the best, especially in such unfamiliar territory.

"I won't let you get lost." He finally turned to face me, and I had to remind myself not to stare while blatantly doing just that. Under the sweater, he wore a sleeveless white shirt, the buttons left undone, so that the pale skin of his throat flowed seamlessly down to join the muscled contours of his chest. 

He stared at me, bewildered by my tortured expression.

"Do you want to go home?" he asked quietly, confusion evident in his tone.

"No." I walked forward until we stood side by side, anxious not to waste one second of whatever time I had with him.

"Is something wrong, Yuuri?" he asked, his voice gentle.

"I'm just worried I'll get thirsty on the way, is all," I answered after only a moment's hesitation. 

"I'm sorry. You'll have to forgive an old man his faults," he sighed, shoulders drooping. 

"Y-you're not that old, Victor!" I quickly reassured him, waving my hands frantically and bowing at the waist. I would have assumed a full _dogeza_ position if he hadn't cheered up quickly. I was still immensely grateful that I was the one person whose thoughts he couldn't read. "Um, if you want me to hike five miles through the mountains before sundown, you should start leading the way." I was eager to get going and put this awkward conversation behind us.

He nodded, leading the way after getting his bearings.

It wasn't that bad, as I had thought. The way was mostly flat, and he held the dry ferns aside for me, helping me over the occasional boulder strewn along the path by lifting me by the elbow, and then releasing me instantly when I was clear. His cold touch never failed to make my heart rate skyrocket. Twice, I caught the slight uptilt of his lips that made me think he could somehow hear it.

For the most part we walked in companionable silence. Sometimes I would ask him a question he'd thrown at me during our previous interrogation, just to fill the void. I found out that his favorite color was gold, and that he held a soft spot for Eurovision. Go figure.

He also took the opportunity to ask questions he hadn't gotten to in the past two days. He asked about my birthdays, my grade school teachers, my childhood pets. I told him about Vicchan, the poodle I had until I moved away to college, how the stuffed approximation sat at the head of my bed at all times. I was glad when he didn't tease me for sleeping with a stuffed companion at my age. He seemed to think it was endearing.

"I have a poodle of my own," he revealed on mile three. "His name is Makkachin. I'm sure you'd love him."

This was new information, and I latched onto it, committing it to memory.

The hike took us most of the morning, but he never showed any sign of impatience. The forest spread out around us in a boundless labyrinth of ancient trees, and I had a moment's panic that we would never find our way back. Victor was perfectly at ease, comfortable among the verdant maze, not once feeling any doubt about our direction. I envied him, for more reasons than one.

After several hours, the light that filtered through the canopy transformed, the murky olive shifting to a bright jade green that strangely reminded me of Yuri Plisetsky's crystalline eyes. The day had turned sunny, just as he'd foretold. For the first time since we'd entered the woods, I felt a thrill of excitement - which quickly turned to impatience.

"Are we there yet?" I teased, pretending to scowl.

He laughed, louder than I was used to. The sound echoed off the mountains in bell-like tones, and I had to stifle my amazement. "Nearly." He smiled at the change in my mood. "Do you see the brightness ahead?"

I squinted into the thick greenery, trying to see past the wall of rock to our immediate right. "Um, should I?"

He smirked. "Maybe it's a little too soon for _your_ eyes."

"Time to visit the optometrist again," I muttered. His smirk grew more pronounced until the mountains again echoed with his laughter.

After another hundred yards or so, I could definitely see a lightening in the trees ahead, a glow that was yellow instead of green. I picked up the pace, my eagerness growing with every step. He let me lead now, following behind with barely a sound.

I reached the edge of the pool of light and stepped through the last fringe of ferns into somewhere that wouldn't look out of place in a fairy tale. A small, perfectly round lake lapped lazily at the shores of white sand that littered the edge of the clearing. Wildflowers - violet, yellow, and ivory - sprouted here and there until grass gave way to sand. The sun was directly overhead, filling the circle with a haze of golden sunshine that glinted off the water's surface in bright sparks. I walked slowly, totally awestruck, through the soft grass, gently swaying flowers, and gilded air.

I turned halfway, wanting to share this with Victor, but he wasn't behind me like I thought. I spun around, searching for him with sudden alarm. I finally spotted him, still under the dense shade of the canopy at the edge of the hollow, watching me with cautious eyes. Only then did I remember what the beauty of the lakeside had driven from my mind - the mystery surrounding Victor and the sun, which he'd promised to solve for me today.

I took a step back toward him, eyes alight with curiosity. He seemed suddenly wary, reluctant to venture any further. I smiled encouragingly and beckoned to him with a hand, taking another step closer to him. He held up a hand in warning, and I hesitated, rocking back onto my heels.

Victor seemed to take a deep breath, and then stepped out into the bright glow of the midday sunlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the cliffhanger. Next chapter will be so much longer.. but it's basically just fluff, so look out for that in the near future!
> 
> borscht - beet stew, has many variations  
> Ina bauer - An Ina Bauer is a "moves in the field" element in figure skating in which a skater skates on two parallel blades. One foot is on a forward edge and the other leg is on a backwards and different parallel edge. (They practically bend over backwards, it's hardcore af, no wonder Yuuri picked that one.)  
> Solnyshko (Солнышко) - little sun
> 
> Notes:
> 
> This chapter likely takes place in late March/early April, so it's perfectly acceptable to say that Yuuri and the fam could watch the World Championships. I have a feeling they were rooting for Yuzuru Hanyu. (I know I was.)
> 
> I know the whole student/teacher thing can put some people off, and that's understandable. I really did try considering a high school au instead, but there was still the age gap. A university/college au made far more sense. Besides, they're both consenting adults, and since homophobia isn't a thing that exists in yoi verse (thank goodness), that's the only thing they need to worry about as far as dating goes. I'll make it work out somehow, though I realize it will still put people off regardless.
> 
> I know I worry that I don't address Yuuri's anxiety properly, but hopefully it translates well enough. Instead of constantly focusing on Victor's looks (well he still does, I don't think that can be avoided) I translated Bella's boring fawning over Edward into more of an anxious 'oh no, he's hot' type of thing.
> 
> Yuuri is sassy af, fight me.
> 
> I picked a lake instead of a meadow for reasons you'll find out next chapter!
> 
> As always, if you spot any typos or inaccuracies, don't be afraid to let me know. I _want_ to be corrected, since I'm trying for a mix of canon and au.


End file.
